


you know my answer already

by daydreamy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamy/pseuds/daydreamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master's not dead. Of course, he's not dead. And, the Doctor has something he wants.</p><p>The Doctor has to wrestle with jealousy as he slowly learns the truth about River, the Master and himself. Fairly canon-compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> A series of encounters between The Doctor, River Song and the Master. Presented mostly chronologically from the Doctor's perspective - but all timey wimey and mixed-up for the other two. Fair warning - I've never watched classic Who so my Master is probably not very canonical.
> 
> Comments wanted! Please - it helps me to know what people are thinking. I'm a pretty new writer and I relish (and need) feedback.

Note: This chapter takes place post Waters of Mars for the Doctor and post Byzantium for River.

 

As usual, he was running. His long coat billowed behind him ( a little like a cape and really you’ve got to love a cape).His favorite trainers slapped at the grey concrete floor as he bolted down the last corridor. He was certain that the Tardis was just around this corner. They had to get out of here – it was clearly a trap. A trap that was rapidly closing. He would have left after he’d discovered the odd signature in the wavelength of the distress beacon…except _she’d_ shown up too.

She’d literally materialized out of thin air and made his day infinitely more complicated, and if he were being honest with himself, infinitely more interesting as well. She’d agreed that the distress signal was phony then grinned and suggested they explore anyway. They’d been creeping through a dark corridor when he’d finally figured out how to sonic the lighting system – revealing that the corridor was lined with dormant nestene duplicates, in full battle dress. “See I told you there had to be something interesting here,” she’d quipped, drawing a deadly looking weapon. Now she was 50 meters behind him, crouching in a doorway and firing off stun rounds at the advancing clone troops. She promised him they were stun rounds, anyway.

He grinned to himself as he ran, thinking of the way they’d laughed out loud together as the entire batch of slumbering clone troopers had snapped to attention, looking comically like an army of toy soldiers. Oh, he was sure he was going to like her. Maybe when they were both safe in the Tardis they could…   His thoughts were interrupted as he rounded the last corner and came skidding to a stop, face to face with a familiar man with short blonde hair.

 

 “Oh Doctor, what a lovely surprise. It’s so nice to see you,” the Master leaned casually against the Tardis doors, cutting off his escape route.

 

“What? No…” The Doctor ran his hands through his spiky hair “You’re dead.” He said with less than perfect certainty – thinking as he said it that he sounded like an idiot. Of course the Master was alive, he’d never do anything so simple as dying and staying that way.

 

“Manners, manners,” the Master scolded him playfully, “I’ll think you’re not happy to see me.” The Doctor studied him carefully as he spoke, there was something calmer, something almost normal in his relaxed posture and in the cheerful glint to his eyes. He seemed to be somehow more whole than the Doctor had seen him in quite some time. But, he also gave off the distinct air of cold calculation that had always been his hallmark, even in childhood.

 

“You sent that distress signal. You set this trap.” The Doctor spoke these obvious facts as he always did, to buy time, time to think. He was midway through calculating their odds of fighting their way back up to the control tower when River came barreling around the corner firing a rapid succession of red bolts over her shoulder and not looking at all at where she was going. She plowed into him and he had to grab her roughly around the waist to avoid them falling into a pile at the feet of his nemesis. Which honestly would have been a trifle embarrassing. As it was, he ended up with an armful of a curvy, soft woman who he barely knew except for the little fact that she would someday mean everything to him.

 

The Doctor kept his eyes on the Master, as he carefully set River back on her feet. A look, something like longing, passed briefly over the Master’s features before he snapped back into his role of genteel host. “And I see you’ve got our lovely Miss Song with you, how wonderful.”

 

“Let River go, it’s me you’re after.” The Doctor felt unexpectedly protective of River. He didn’t like it at all that the Master knew her name and he really didn’t like the hungry way he kept looking at her. He found himself taking River’s left hand firmly in his own and giving it a reassuring little squeeze.

 

The Master smiled a long, sad smile. “Now, whatever gave you that silly idea?” As the meaning of those words sunk in – what remained of the battalion of clone soldiers marched around the corner and closed ranks, completely surrounding them.

 

River raised her arm, aiming her gun at the Master. “What do you want?” She sounded almost bored.

 

“What I always want, my lovely girl…you.” The Master strode forward, blithely pressing his chest against the muzzle of her blaster. She didn’t flinch either and they stood there glaring at each other. The Doctor felt a sickening weight in his chest. Would she do it? Even if he was a madman, he was a timelord, the only other timelord.

 

“River, please don’t.” Her face remained impassive, but her eyes flicked over to meet his. She was trying to tell him something, but he didn't know... he couldn't read her cues. So, he turned on the Master. “And what do you mean _always?_ What do you want with her?”

 

“Oh early days is it?” The Master leered at River pushing his chest further against the muzzle of her gun. “How’s that working out? Hmm?” In answer River dropped the Doctor’s hand and pulled back the recharge unit on the back of her blaster –  it made a satisfying little clicking sound. River grinned at the Master like a cheshire cat.

 

“Oh go ahead, shoot me if you want to – you’ve already utterly destroyed me, you might as well finish the job.” As he spoke he reached out and gently ran his fingers down the line of her jaw.

 

“Don’t tempt me.” River purred out the words. Her face was an impassive mask, but a tiny smile was starting to tug at the edges of her mouth. “And stop being so melodramatic.”

 

She didn’t lower her gun, but it seemed clear that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, fire. Well that was a relief. “Time out.” The Doctor stepped forward and grasped the Master’s arm, tugging him away from River and sending the assembled guard into a state of high alert, twenty blasters were immediately raised and aimed at his head. He ignored them and focused instead on looking into the clear, blue eyes of his oldest adversary and his oldest friend. “Utterly destroying you is generally my main thing. What’s going on?”

 

What’s going on is that you have something I want. Well, two somethings actually. I’ll be taking the tardis from you by force, naturally. But, I would have preferred it if Miss Song had come willingly – but the situation being what it is I’ll have to switch to plan B. At his signal five soldiers came forward and grasped the doctor, wrenching his arms painfully behind his back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see River putting up a struggle. She managed to punch one of the soldiers, the Doctor recognized the wide swing – remembering that she could hit really hard. But soon, she too, was restrained. 

 

“Have I ever told you,” she said, struggling to turn towards the Doctor, “how much I hate it that we always have to hang out with your friends.”

 

The Master whipped a knife out of his belt and pressed it, almost tenderly, against River’s throat. “Oh, Song, me thinks you doth protest too much. You still care about me or I’d be dead by now. Does he know yet, does he know what you are? What you are capable of?”

 

“Just stop it!” the Doctor was starting to get exasperated and angry. It was bad enough that River kept popping into his life dropping enigmatic hints, well that was even a little fun. But the Master was acting like he had some claim to her and now it was raining enigmatic hints like confetti. 

 

The Master grinned at River, “He has no idea, oh and look at you, you can’t pretend in front of me I know you too well, you’re heartbroken.”  His voice held a note a triumph. “I hope you won’t think me vulgar if I say _I told you so_.”

 

“I’ve always thought you were vulgar.”

 

“Yes, but you used to like it.” He whispered this last bit into her ear, shifting his hold on the knife so that it was pressed lengthwise along the base of her neck. “Open the Tardis, Doctor, or I’ll open her jugular vein. Have you ever seen someone bleed to death? I assure you it’s not pretty.”

 

The Doctor squared his glasses on his nose and hazarded a glance at River, _his future_.  She rolled her eyes dismissively; whatever she was she was no lightweight, she wasn't scared. Well of course she wouldn’t be, not if he loved her someday, she was probably amazing. He certainly couldn't let her die here, but the Master could not be in possession of the Tardis – of this much the Doctor was certain. He just needed to talk, usually these kinds of situations resolved themselves if he just started talking. “Now, that’s taking things a bit far isn’t it.” The Doctor tried to keep his voice breezy and casual it wouldn’t help anything if the Master knew how utterly panicked he felt at the idea of River getting hurt. “You said it yourself, I barely know her. You think I’m gonna just hand over the tardis for a virtual stranger.”

 

“See that darling, he’s willing to sacrifice you in the first round. What have I been telling you?” The Master kept his silvery knife pressed into the hollow of River’s neck, despite his familiar, chatty tone. “It’s coming for you. Soon you’ll just be another anonymous body piled up in his wake and he won’t even realize what he’s lost.” The Doctor watched in horror as realization broke across River’s face. The Master was telling her the truth, he was hinting at her future. She was shaking her head slightly as if to deny his words. The Master seemed to sense an advantage and pressed his case. “My offer still stands Song. Together we could usher in a new era – we could bring back the Timelords. It’s not too late.” The Master touched River again, running the back of his free hand against her wet cheek, “There is still hope left,” he whispered.

 

“No,” the Doctor cut in urgently. “I’m not willing to sacrifice anybody.” He shot a meaningful look at River, he might not know her but she knew him, she knew that he didn’t throw anyone under the bus. He turned his attention back to the Master, “Bring back the Timelords? Are you mad? I’ve told you what they became. You saw for yourself. The time lock must remain intact, please listen to reason.”

 

"Oh sweetie, when has reason ever worked on him?" River closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again they burned with a ferocity that the Doctor had glimpsed briefly in the Library in the final moments of her life. River looked directly at the Doctor and his breath caught at the sadness he saw welling up behind her eyes. He thought for a moment that there was something ancient reflected there, an old soul - that was the human expression . “You’re right,” she exhaled addressing the Master. “He doesn’t understand yet. It’s too early in his timestream.” She held the Doctor with her gaze for a long moment before turning back to the man with his knife at her throat. She took a deep breath and gently placed a hand on his wrist. “Maybe he’ll even let me die. But, you won’t.” She leveled a very plain look at the Master who lowered his knife. River snatched her blaster back from the soldier who’d taken it and the Master motioned to his troops to stand down as River dug the barrel of her own gun into her temple.

 

“You were bluffing,” she said inching backwards toward the Tardis doors, “but I’m not and you know it.” The Doctor took the opportunity to join her at the entrance to his ship. “River,” he whispered, “It’s not worth it. Please, I’m sorry.” River only winked at him.

 

“Don’t fear, old friend, she’s quite right. I wouldn’t risk her life, not for anything.”

 

“You two know each other well, then?” Now that no one was in imminent danger of death the Doctor remembered that he was annoyed, annoyed and perhaps a little bit jealous.  

 

“Oh we go way back.” River’s voice was casual but she hadn’t lowered her gun.

 

“Not far enough back I’m afraid. Goodbye Doctor, goodbye Song – until next time.” The Master blew River a kiss as the Doctor hustled them both through the Tardis doors. As soon as they were safely behind them, River holstered her blaster and stalked off, with purpose, down a lower corridor. The Doctor watched her walk away, his mind churning with a noxious cocktail of guilt and suspicion as he threw levers wildly and sent them careening into the vortex.

 

It was hours later when she sought him out. He was in the kitchen, brooding over a cup of tea and rebuilding a small adapter from the time rotor. “So,” she said brightly, feigning good spirits, “I’m guessing that’s the first time we’ve run into him, the first time for you I mean.” She dawdled around making herself a cup, but the Doctor kept his eyes down focusing instead on furiously rewiring the circuit.

“Doctor…” she began gently sitting down next to him. “You’re so angry. You won’t even look at me?” She touched his arm gently and he glared up at her, before returning his attention to twisting the wires.  River just sighed and adopted a long-suffering tone, “That usually means that you feel guilty. Have you let me down recently?”

 _She sees right through me_ , he thought, realizing that part of what made him want to run from her was this feeling that she could strip him bare with one appraising glance. He made a noncommittal kind of a shrug which she interpreted as a confession. “It’s alright, it’s OK. Whatever comes, I always forgive you, we always forgive each other, always and completely – that’s how this works.”

 

He flashed back to the last time he saw her, remembering the stricken look when she realized he didn’t know her. She’d known, he thought, she would know at that moment. What had she told the others about him? _He’s the only story you’ll ever tell if you survive him_. They wouldn’t survive him and she’d be another casualty in his wake, just as the Master had warned her. The Doctor dropped his wires and took her hand in both of his. He studied the back of her hand noticing a faint crescent-shaped scar near her slender wrist, before turning her soft palm up and tracing his thumb along her lifeline, pausing to let his touch linger on the tender spot where the little crease vanished.

 

 River was leaning into him now and he could feel her breath catch at his touch. She turned her face into his shoulder and they sat like that together for a long moment.

“He can’t frighten me with the truth about my life.” River murmured the words against his chest as if she’d been reading his mind, “He only said it to hurt you.”

 

“You know him. The two of you know each other.” It wasn’t really a question, but he said it anyway to give himself time to think. The Master seemed to regard River as some sort of an asset, something to be guarded, if not quite cherished. But, the way he’d touched her, flirted with her – it was deeply disturbing. “River, what was that?”

 

River spoke very slowly, the way people do when they are trying to find just the right words. “I think that was an act of desperation. Something must have happened. He’s not usually so…insistent.” She stood up abruptly. “I should go.”

 

The Doctor stood up too. “Sure, where would you like me to take you?” But River just smiled and nodded at the device on her wrist. “No…” the Doctor said shaking his head incredulously. “We’re in the vortex…you can’t teleport out of a moving tardis!”

 

“You can’t.” She smirked at him and vanished in a crackle of electricity.

 

He stood there shaking his head and smiling. _Until next time_.

 

 


	2. Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place post crash of the Byzantium for the Doctor and post Pandorica for River.

Stormcage must have fallen off a bit from their high standards for security, because the Doctor was sure he could see River Song, known murderer and stormcage inmate, sitting in the quaint early-20th century bistro. He had come to Paris specifically because this place had the _best_ roast duck, pan seared medallions that they served in this amazing port reduction sauce with button mushrooms. He’d just come for dinner, leaving Amy sleeping peacefully aboard the tardis. The last thing he expected was her.

He’d last seen her, handcuffed and laughing, on the edge of a rocky beach on a planet 4,000 light-years away about to be taken back into custody. Yet, here she was gleefully knocking back a glass of wine as she chatted animatedly to someone. His view of the man was obstructed by a few patrons waiting in line for a table in the cozy restaurant. _Ooooh_ , the Doctor thought with interest. _Maybe it’s me_. He decided it couldn’t possibly hurt to take a peek. Maybe this was a future version of himself, maybe he’d be dashing and handsome, maybe, just maybe, he’d be ginger. The Doctor edged carefully through the crowd trying to get a glimpse. As the man came into view, the Doctor felt a great lumbering beast stir within his chest. The beast demanded that the Doctor go over there right now and punch her date and then tell River just where she could put her _spoilers_. “Look at that, I’m jealous,” the Doctor said to no one in particular. “That’s new.”

When he looked over again the Master and River were both staring at him. River looking pleased and as satisfied as the cat that ate the canary. She turned to the Master and said, “I told you he’d turn up.”

The Master huffed and pulled out the spare chair and motioned to the Doctor. “Well, come on, you might as well sit down.” 

The Doctor sat down and glared from one to the other. 

“Try the duck,” River suggested. “It’s really good.”

 “I know it’s really good you insufferable, mad person, I _discovered_ this bistro. This is _my_ bistro. This is _my_ favorite table.”

“Here we go.” The Master sighed.

“And what are you doing here with her?” The Doctor demanded of the Master in a violent whisper. “The last time I saw you two together it was a bloody death match - all guns and sharp knives and hitting people and now you’re just – what – on a date?”

“Shh…spoilers, sweetie.” River said, giving the Master a worried look. “Have you been assaulting me?” she asked him.

“Not yet,” the Master said thoughtfully. “But I guess I will, sounds fun.” 

River turned to the Doctor with a sly smile on her lips. Her hair was cascading around her bare shoulders and he realized that he’d never seen it down before. The candlelight from the table played against golden curls as she leaned towards him, giving him a very good view down the front of her low-cut bodice. He felt a jolt of almost painful pleasure as arousal began to swell within him. He’d never…not in this body, but right now he wanted to lift her on top of the table and prove to everyone, that this was _his_ restaurant, and _his_ favorite table and definitely _his_ woman. He shuddered a little at the intensity of this fantasy. River moved her mouth very close to his ear, so close that he could feel the heat from her breath as she whispered, “I love it when you get possessive.”

“Get a room, you two.” The Master said, feigning disgust as he slathered butter over a roll. “Actually Doctor, I was trying to talk sense into M..” River knocked over her wine glass into the Master’s lap.

“Oh, sorry.” She turned her attention back to the Doctor. “Where are we for you?”

The Doctor sighed aggressively at this obvious secret-keeping. “I’ve just come from the Crash of the Byzantium.”

 River nodded. “I’ve just done the Pandorica.”

 “I thought you’d just come from that wedding?” The Master cut in. He was still distractedly swiping at his wine-damp jacket with a napkin. “Wasn’t it a family wedding?” The Doctor saw a glint of retribution in the Master’s eyes, he was giving away her secrets, but River played it off , cool as always. He really liked that about her.

 “Friends, actually, but you know how it is, some friends become your family in the end.” River spoke with her eyes down but the Doctor saw that small smile play at her lips. He’d thought that he’d like to kiss that little crease at the edge of her smile.

 “Yes, yes your human entanglements are a subject of infinite fascination to me. But as I was saying I came here to talk to our Song about, well I guess it doesn’t matter now.” He took River’s hand and kissed it gently. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”

“You knew I wouldn’t.” She was shaking her head gently. “Won’t you ever stop punishing me for my one good deed?”

“No I’m afraid not,” he said getting up and pushing in his chair. He walked around the table. “And I want to say something to you, because this may be the last time in your oh-too-short life that you’ll hear it.” The Master bent down whispering something into River’s ear. When he stood up again, the Doctor could see River’s lovely sea-green eyes glistening with tears. The Master clapped him lightly on the back, a gentle companionable touch, and walked out into the night.

 They left shortly afterwards. River surprised him by twining her fingers through his as they walked silently and aimlessly through the cobblestone streets. They ended up leaning against an ancient, burbling fountain watching other, less-complicated couples go about the ordinary business of being in love. River clung to his hand but she stared off into the middle distance as if she were a million miles away.

 “River?” The Doctor raised her hand to his lips, searching for the little crescent shaped scar – it wasn’t there. He wondered if this would become a habit, searching her body for traces of her past. He blushed thinking of the ways he could mark her, the soft, tender places on her body that would blossom into little bruises if he applied just the right amount of pressure with his teeth or his lips.

 “Hmmm?” She was still looking past him, not seeing him.

 “What did he say to you? What did he whisper in your ear?” He didn’t expect an answer, not really. She was too good at this. Perhaps he himself had taught her to lie, to change the subject, to never give too much away. He was prepared for a suggestive response intended to inspire more jealously or for her to smirk at him and say _spoilers_. So he was completely taken aback when River Song turned to him and told him the truth with a plaintive expression that broke his hearts.

 

“My name.”

 

“Your name?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s not really River Song?” It was a shame, he really liked the name River Song, it reminded him of a name in a fairy tale. Like Amelia Pond.

 

“Is your name really _The Doctor_?” She was teasing him now, all the traces of her sadness gone.

 

“You know it isn’t.” He whispered the words, inching forward until their foreheads nearly touched. It would be so easy to slip into her mind right now. Too easy.

 

“Yes, I do.” She smiled up at him but inched back slowly, clearly aware of what he’d been tempted to do. “See you later, sweetie.” And, with that, she was gone.


	3. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor, Amy and Rory accidently bump into Mels. Rory, on purpose, punches the Master. The Doctor makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after LKH for the Doctor Amy and Rory.

 

“What’s this then,” Amy was poking her head out of the Tardis’s doors. She looked unimpressed by the dark and narrow city street that greeted her.

 

“London, 1957.” The Doctor twirled past her merrily and turned to enjoy the perplexed expression on her face.

 

“London in 1957?” Rory asked, joining her at the door. “What’s so special about that?”

 

“Only everything!” Did you know that right there across the way is club and in that club on this very night a little-known band will be performing – a band that will go on the heights of fame and fortune, after they change their name that is. But we get to see them tonight while they’re still undiscovered.” He accentuated this last bit with a little flourish of his hands.

 

Amy had walked over to the battered wooden door of the club and was reading the playbill. “Starfish”, she put her hands on her hips. “Who is Starfish?”

 

“I think it’s Coldplay.” Rory raised an eyebrow at the Doctor.

 

“No, no,no.” The Doctor stalked over to her and yanked the playbill from the door. It’s supposed to be the Quarrymen – he balked at Amy and Rory’s blank expressions. “You know the Quarrymen – the band that would go on to be the Beatles.”

 

Rory took the playbill from the Doctor and started laughing. “It’s 1997.”

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Only off by one digit – not so bad really.”

 

“1997,” Amy mused. “So about thirty miles away Rory and I are 15 years old. We should go spy on ourselves. Doctor, you’ve really got to see the ridiculous haircut Rory had that year.”

 

“It made me look like I was in a band.” Rory protested weakly.

 

“Sorry,” the Doctor cut in, “that would not be a good idea. We might run into…”

His words trailed off as the club door swung open to admit a couple of guys, affording them an unobstructed view of the tiny dance floor – where a very familiar girl was gyrating suggestively, entangled in the arms of some leather-clad man. “…your daughter” he finished weakly.

 

“Oh-no” Amy intoned as Rory and the Doctor both started forward. “You just said we didn’t want to run into her.” She scrambled to beat them to the door just in time to see Mels dip backward, her mini-skirt inching higher as her dance partner, whose face was still in shadow, ran his hands over her curvy backside.

 

“She’s fifteen years old!” Rory sputtered. “I am going in there and I’m going to kill that guy.” The Doctor nodded his complete agreement to this plan, completely forgetting his commitment to non-violence.

 

“Rory, she’s not a child, she’s probably not even really fifteen.” Amy was holding up her hands, begging for reason.

 

“He doesn’t know that. And, she’s my child. _I_ haven’t forgotten that.” Rory glared at Amy.

 

“Neither have I,” Amy sputtered. “I just think we have to be reasonable. She can’t see us. Right, Doctor? That would be crossing her timestream and you’re always going on about how bad that is.”

 

The Doctor’s jaw was clenched. “My rules, I can break them.” He said blithely and walked through the door with Rory hot on his heels. Amy followed them inside and steered them all to a table on the far side of the club. It was dim, as bars tended to be, and luckily she found a table behind a sort of column. As hiding places go, it was pretty good.

 

They caught a glimpse of Mels disappearing into the ladies, so Amy got them all drinks and they sat around the table. It gave them a chance to cool off.

 

“We’re the worst parents ever.” Amy stirred at her gin and tonic.

 

“Well in fairness, we are fifteen, can’t really blame _us_.” Rory cut his eyes meaningfully toward the Doctor.

 

“You know,” she began tentatively; “I think I remember that guy she was dancing with. They were off and on for ages.”

 

“Yeah,” Rory muttered, “I sort of remember him as well, but it was always hard to keep them all straight.”

 

The Doctor, who had been studying his club soda as if it held the secrets of the universe, looked up at this. “What do you mean?”

 

“Ugh, they were always the same, Mels and her endless parade of dangerous, edgy conquests – I mean is there a place where they assemble all these guys and just hand out black leather and sinister tattoos?” Rory was oblivious to Amy kicking him under the table.

 

The Doctor’s eyes went a shade darker as he studied his drink again and muttered “ _endless…_ an endless parade.”

 

Mels was back sitting at a table near the band. Well, sort-of sitting, mostly leaning into the thirty-something-year-old guy from the dance floor. He was running his hands through her short curly hair and whispering into her ear. Whatever he said must have seemed funny because Mels threw back her head and laughed, arching her back and pushing her chest forward. The man, who had spikey blonde hair, grabbed her aggressively and pulled her into a kiss.

 

“I’m going over there.” Rory said pushing away from the table.

 

“And how are you going to explain that you are suddenly 10 years older?” Amy asked.

Rory just pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and stalked away.

 

“Doctor!” Amy jostled his shoulder. “Come on this is normally when you are the voice of reason.” The Doctor looked up in time to see Rory tapping Mel’s date roughly on the shoulder. The man looked up and, for the first time, they had a really good look at him.

 

“No!” the Doctor cried out just as Rory punched the guy hard across the face. The blonde man went sprawling, knocking into a couple of tough looking young men who jumped up and screamed “Fight!” Suddenly the whole club was a riot of activity. The Doctor caught a glimpse of Mels weaving through the crowd and joyfully decking some random guy on her way out the door.

 

The Doctor struggled over to where Rory was dodging blows from Mel’s “date”. One of his fists made impact with Rory’s stomach, sending him reeling. The Doctor jumped between them and with one powerful move knocked the man’s face into a nearby concrete pillar. The sound of his nose breaking could be heard even over the noise of the brawl. The Doctor grabbed fistfuls of the man’s shirtfront and jerked him up again so they were eye to eye. “What do you think you are you doing?”  His voice sounded strange and guttural in his own ears.

 

“Saving her from you, Doctor.” The Master said calmly, ignoring the blood dripping from his nose. The club was growing quieter as people fled outside. The Doctor could hear his hearts thrumming in his ears and with a great exhale he let all his rage flow out of him. He released the Master’s shirt and took a step back looking at him with a dazed expression. “…from me…You’re trying to change her timelines.”

 

“She needs more convincing, but she’s so refreshingly open to my suggestions at this tender age.” The Master gave the Doctor a petulant look. “Although, she’s extremely obsessed with you. Finding you, killing you, and probably shagging you at some point in between. We have so much in common, she and I.”

 

“Doctor! Who is this man?”  He turned at Amy’s words to see her and Rory standing behind him, twin expressions of shock at his violent outburst on their faces.

 

“Not a man.” The Doctor said coldly. “Not a man at all. Well maybe a madman.”

 

The Master smiled coldly. “Oh I’m not crazy, not anymore.” He tapped at his temple. “I can see everything very clearly. No more drums.”

 

Rory looked from the Doctor to the Master, shaking his head as if to clear it. “What? You know this guy?”

 

The Doctor sighed. “Amy and Rory Pond, meet the Master. We…grew up together.”

 

“You mean, he’s a TimeLord too?” Amy cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you were the only one.”

 

“No, no no.” The Master smiled solicitously and patted the Doctor on the shoulder. “You are not alone, Doctor. There’s me…” He glanced at Amy and Rory “…and now there’s our delightful Melody.” He purred out her name as if just saying the word brought him satisfaction. “Oh Doctor, you do have exquisite taste.”

 

Rory bristled, “You leave her alone.”

 

“Of course, of course you’re her father. Naturally you only want what’s best for her.” The Master turned his cool gaze on Rory. “But ask yourself, is it really _him_? I could give her eternity and he…well you know how that story ends already don’t you, Rory? Or hasn’t he told you.”

 

“She told me,” Rory said simply. The Doctor and Amy both looked at him questioningly. “In Florida, when we were in those tunnels. She said one day he wouldn’t know her…and that she thought it would kill her.”

 

The Master nodded sympathetically, “Such a tragic story, what would you choose for her?”

 

“Actually,” Amy interrupted. “It’s Melody’s choice.” She leaned into the Master, her eyes narrowed in anger, “And just for the record, she said you were rubbish in bed.” She grabbed both her guys and pulled them out through the door and into the Tardis.  

 

The Doctor’s face was bright red and he kept sputtering nonsense as he flailed over the controls. “Rubbish, well, well of course, but an endless parade, a parade that was _endless_. Normally I like parades, a nice brass band, but an _endless_ parade. And who’s in the parade? Who’s the grand marshal? – why, fancy that, it’s the only other Timelord in the universe – who happens to be an evil genius.” He whirled on Amy – couldn’t you have a least tried to talk some sense into her.

 

Amy rolled her eyes. “Clearly you don’t know her that well, yet. If it’s any consolation she dumped him the day we all graduated. She told us he was too serious, she hated anybody who wanted to tie her down, and he kept talking to her about how much he wanted…” Amy’s eyes went a little glassy as realization dawned.

 

“Wanted what?” The Doctor asked, suddenly scarily calm again.

 

“Kids.” Roy said, sitting down hard on the jumpseat. “Oh god he wanted her because she’s, she’s …”

 

“Genetically compatible.” The Doctor offered listlessly. “He wants her to help him bring back the Time Lords, he said so once…I just didn’t realize…I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

“That’s disgusting.” Amy agreed, plopping down on the steps. “Poor River, she’s this amazing miracle but everyone just wants to use her.”

 

“I don’t.” The Doctor was touching his fingertips to his lips remembering the way her lips had burned against his as they lay on a cold, marble floor.

 

“Doctor.” Rory looked pale. “Have you seen her since Berlin?” He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, clearly trying not to cry. “Please tell us she’s OK.”

 

The Doctor looked at the other man, this man who had willingly guarded Amy for two thousand years even though she was perfectly safe in the Pandorica. This same man was powerless to protect his daughter, who had so much more need of protection. How could he tell them him the truth? He was running, as usual, from what scared him. And the Doctor was terrified, because now he too had a promise to live up to, _not one line_.

 

He’d run straight into her, of course. He’d been at a party, a private party for President Jefferson’s birthday. Clearly colonial Americans were taking cues from the French because they knew how to throw a party. Things were getting a bit wild and the Doctor was fending off increasingly obvious advances from the President, when River appeared at his elbow, whisking him onto the dance floor.

“Thanks,” he’d muttered, pulling at his bow time in embarrassment. “I think he fancied me.”

“You mentioned that.” She’d twirled in his arms. “When are we for you?”

 

“Did you know that Tom has been excavating some very peculiar burial mounds round back of the White House?” The Doctor avoided River’s pointed gaze and soldiered on in his attempt to distract her. “Really you should take a look, seeing as you’re the expert. He could use your advice – they could be Silurian.”

 

“They are. That’s actually why I’m here.” She’d gaven him a sly smile. “You are just an added bonus, but answer the question.”

 

He’d exhaled, and stopped dancing. “Berlin.” He’d told her simply, staring at his shoes.

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” She’d taken his hand and led him outside so they could have some privacy. He remembered thinking that she understood how close he was to tears, how close to breaking at the thought of her pouring her life force into him, at the thought of all they could have had, but wouldn’t. She knew him well enough to know that if he was going to have a big emotional display he wouldn’t want an audience.

 

As soon as they were outside she’d kissed him, but he’d pushed her away. “Please don’t, I just…I’m just so sorry River.”

 

“I’m not.” She’d laid her hands flat against his chest. One for each heart.  “Would you undo it?”

 

What she’d done for him in order to save him was incredible and incredibly dangerous. It was strictly forbidden by the Time Lords of old. He’d let Amy and Rory think that she’d sort of given him a recharge. _Like jumping a car battery_ , he’d explained. But that was lie.

                                     

He was cold, so cold on the marble floor, and then there was nothing. She’d pulled him out of the void, _River what are you doing? No._ But her lips touched his she’d seared across his mind like a supernova, burning up every part of him. She’d flowed through every fiber of his being, the hot, molten light that was her consciousness invaded his own and they were joined. He knew her, utterly, in that moment. And she him. The miracle of it was that their minds, once entwined, found a perfect complement in the other. It wasn’t always the way. This act had been forbidden because sometimes people went insane or died, thrashing in terror. But for River and he it had been only ecstasy, as they marveled at one another. He felt her surprise as his own and together they marveled at the golden brilliance of their union.  It was intimacy and pleasure beyond human imagining. How could he ever explain to Amy and Rory that they were more than married, they were more than lovers. She was inside him. When his hearts beat, they sounded out her rhythms, _his_ Melody. His blood pulsed through his body, only because the current of her lives rushed through his veins. He would never be rid of the need for her.  

 

They’d stood together, looking out at the candle-lit garden paths in what would one day be a rose garden. He’d taken her hand and promised her that he would never, ever undo it.

 

“Doctor!” Rory’s angry voice brought him back into the present. “Have you seen her? Is she OK?”

 

 The Doctor took a deep breath and lied with as much sincerity as he could muster. “Of course I have. Rory she’s great. She’s amazing.” Although, now a thought occurred to the Doctor, maybe there was a way to save her. To hell with his promises. Rule one. He might have to ask for the Master’s help, but River could handle him. He turned to Rory with a much more genuine smile. “Don’t worry about the Master. Remember, River’s a deadly assassin, with a specialty in killing Time Lords – he really doesn’t stand a chance.”

 

“Is that who she kills? To end up in prison, I mean? Does River kill that guy, the Master?” Amy sounded positively overjoyed at this option.

 

The Doctor beamed at them. “Spoilers.”


	4. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has a plan to save River's life, even if it means breaking his first promise to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit of a fix-it for TWORS, which has always sort of rubbed me the wrong way. Who are you calling embarassing bow-tie boy?

He figured out how he was going to save River, he was going to let her kill him. It was a brilliant plan. He would die and she would live. Time could be rewritten. _Her_ time could be rewritten, but only a little. She would still be born and stolen. She would still kill him and save him in Berlin. She would go to jail and maybe she would have some of the adventures that were already in his memory. _Asgard_ , he hoped they still had that. But it was hard to tell for sure. He had worked out the differential physics as well as he could, well enough to ensure that she would exist, but she would never learn his name and she would never, ever go near the Library. And, neither would he – she’d called him there after all.

 

He enlisted the Master in his plans. It hadn’t been hard to track him down, although now he and the Master seemed as jumbly and timey-wimey as he and River. Luckily he met an older sane, reasonable Master who was, frankly, overjoyed that the Doctor had decided to embrace death and release River from her fate.

 

“The Silence just wants her to kill me. After she does, they’ll leave her alone. Just bust her out of prison, if she doesn’t do it herself, and keep her away from the Library. Make sure she gets back to here. The tardis knows what to do.” He’d been working on rigging up the Tardis’s huron distributors to give her back the regenerations she lost. If that didn’t work at least River and his ship would have each other. He turned to the only man in the universe he could trust with this task. Not that he really trusted him. The Doctor exhaled, _you don’t have a choice_ he reminded himself. “Can you just do those simple things?”

 

The Master sat in the tardis library, listening intently and drumming his fingers together. “But Doctor, have you considered the temporal feedback, this is useless if you end up erasing her existence.”

 

“Of course I have.” He snapped, “what do you take me for - some sophomore at the academy? It’ll work. Some of it might happen differently, but I think all the parts of her timeline that are critical will be salvaged.” The Doctor paced back and forth reviewing his calculations in his head. “She’ll be ok.” He said with certainty. “I can feel it.”  The Master didn’t look convinced. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose.

 

“Yet, even now I can sense her time unraveling. It’s like that nonsense you two pulled with the Pandorica, do you have any idea how close you came to destroying her then?”

 

“No, actually at the time I had no idea.” The Doctor smiled to himself, “But River knew.”

 

The Master snorted in exasperation. “You two just love to play the game at the razor’s edge! Are you sure you know what you’re doing Doctor?”

 

“Of course, I’m sure.” _He wasn’t_. “Shut up, I’m the one who’s dying after all. And you’ll still be here.” The Doctor paced a bit more. “There is one bit that worries me…”

 

“Yes, I’ll try my best to get her back into bed.”

 

The Doctor groaned and then thought _rubbish_ and felt a bit better.

 

“No, not that. River told me that she regenerated into a toddler on the streets of New York. Then somehow thirty years later she found her way to Rory and Amy, they say she looked about eight or nine. How did she do it?” He ran his hands wildly through his hair. “What if it was me? Older me. She’d need help, someone who could teach her polymorphic aging techniques at the very least. But if I’m gone I can’t do it.” The Doctor stopped babbling long enough to glance over at the Master, who was barely suppressing a laugh. “Oh, it was you.”

 

“Partly, there was a woman in New York. I don’t know what these humans call it, like a guardian, who helped her with the aging. But, I made sure she got to Ledsworth, kept the clerics off her back as well as I could without arousing their suspicions.”

 

“The Clerics?”

 

“Well of course, you didn’t think they’d let an investment like that just disappear? They’d show up from time to time and secret her away for more training and who knows what else. They emptied the bank accounts of an entire star system to make her into the perfect killer. She was absolutely deadly by the time she was forty – of course she looked fifteen to the humans. Imagine that, Doctor, the most gifted assassin in the universe sitting in school, doing her sums in pigtails and a little blue plaid skirt.”  The Master closed his eyes slowly, as if relishing the memory of River as she had been then.

 

“You love reminding me.” The Doctor was thinking _that you had sex with her, a lot_. But the Master ignored the subtext.

 

“You need reminding. Constantly.” The Master stood up as though he was preparing to leave. “Don’t underestimate her, Doctor. I made that mistake once. It changed everything.” The Master had a faraway look.

 

“Do you…you don’t actually care about her?” The Doctor looked up, perhaps he had misjudged him.

 

“Not when I should have, not when it would have made a difference. And really, Doctor, the woman I wanted died in Berlin, I heard that Hitler shot her. God, but she was magnificent.” The Master shook himself a little and forced his features into a blank mask. “I’ll help you. But I don’t think this will work.”

 

“It will work.”  He had to die, so that River could live. Besides it was a fixed point, those goons in the Tessalector had confirmed it. But a nagging doubt played at his mind. He’d met versions of River with memories of a future him, a him with a penchant for grand romantic gestures (Rory had mentioned Stevie Wonder?) He’d never done that and he’d never cried under singing towers. He was about to die and his death was a fixed point…he was missing something, none of those memories should be possible. And yet, River had a little blue book full of them. He was certain he was missing something.

 

The Tessalector! Of course – he didn’t have to _actually_ be dead. They all just had to _believe_ he was dead. He wasn’t cheating, not really. OK, he was cheating. But, he’d steer clear of her and the Master would gently steer her away from those events that might lead her closer to the Library. Maybe he’d lose a memory or two – he made himself a note to make sure the Master knew to handle the Byzantium. He’d enjoy that, the Master hated weeping angels.

 

It would be lonely and difficult; he’d have to stop seeing Amy and Rory. But she’d be alive. He would look out across all of time and space and he would know that she was there.

 

He played his part so well. He congratulated himself on the acuity of his performance; he even set the stage. The notes, the carefully placed boat, the canister of gasoline to be delivered by a mysterious stranger - they all made it so believable. And she was there, some gorgeous River, older than the one in the White House garden. Although younger perhaps than the one who’d helped him reboot the universe. He’d brought out his own diary to give himself this one thing, to remind himself that they had some shared stories – Easter Island – that would stay after he altered her timelines. They’d still have that. She smiled and clapped her hands gleefully at the memories and his hearts broke.

 

Then she was there again, but so young and he knew she was not so far removed from Berlin, from that moment when their souls had entangled and she’d burned across his brain. She was desperately in love with him. She had none of her older self’s coy suggestiveness – she was laid bare and weeping and how could he do this to her but he had to and oh god she was crying. The crying hardened his resolve, because it reminded him of the first time he saw her cry. That would never happen now. She would live. _I’m sorry this has to happen this always happens._ _Goodbye_ _River_ _._

 

Except it wasn’t.

 

He’d been warned not to underestimate her. She was so strong. OK then, he would play to her weaknesses. The Doctor had been in Melody Pond’s mind, he had seen her from the inside out. He knew her soft spots so he hit her where it hurt. He taunted her and belittled her and told her he didn’t want to marry her. _Which was not true_. He watched her face for signs that she was breaking. He said her plans were stupid, that she embarrassed him. These were the words from her childhood, from her training. She couldn’t possibly take this much pain. No wonder she slapped him the first time he’d come to Utah. Soon, he thought, she would slap him here and now and restart the clock and let him die (or at least pretend to die) for her.

 

She didn’t break. She just loved him. He tried reason next. The whole universe would be destroyed unless she killed him. _Which was actually true_. Plus, the Silence would never leave her alone. She had to go back to the beach. They were watching they had to see him die. Of that much he was certain. Oh, why wouldn’t she just do it!

 

_Everything in the universe will suffer and die._

_I’ll suffer, if I have to kill you._

_More than every living thing in the entire universe?_

_Yes._

 

And then he saw how it was going to happen - Stevie Wonder, singing towers, his name on her lips. He’d been missing something all along. She was telling the truth and he was being a selfish bastard. He’d told himself he was saving her, but he was just trying to save himself. He was terrified of the pain of losing her and so he was going to – _What? Inflict that pain on her? Let her be the one to mourn him?_ Alright then, new plan.

 

When it was done and everything was set back in place he went to find her. He carefully took the parking brakes off and put the tardis into cloaked mode just like she’d done in America. Best to be cautious, he didn’t know what the early days in Stormcage were like.

 

He’d opened the doors of his impressively invisible ship and was about to saunter into her cell when he heard the Master’s voice, cool and unctuous. He was sitting next to her on her narrow bed, one arm tossed over her shoulder, both their backs pressed against a grey concrete wall. River had been crying.

 

“Melody darling, it doesn’t matter. You’ll still see him. He showed me his diary; you’ve got at least a dozen more romps before his time is up.” River sobbed even harder and the Master patted her back awkwardly.

 

“But it’ll just be his past and he won’t know…he won’t know.” She stopped talking and buried her face in her hands, sobs rocking her body. _Laying it on a bit thick aren’t we dear?_ the Doctor thought. Well, no matter, she would become a really skilled actress in time.

 

“Oh my gods, I know you didn’t kill him. Stop being ridiculous.” The Master whispered harshly in her ear.

 

River kept her face hidden in her hands but the Doctor could see her stage sobs turning quickly into a case of the giggles.

 

“You didn’t think you could actually fool me, did you?” The Master was working himself up into a rant. “You’re fools, the pair of you. You’ve just signed the order for your own execution. And you haven’t done him any favors either. Stupid girl, don’t you know why the silence wants him dead. Silence must fall and you’ll have to do it.”

 

River swung out of her crouch, catching the Master’s by the neck and pinning his torso against the wall, her knees gripping either side of his hips. She slammed the back of his head against the wall viciously. The whole sequence of movements would have been slightly erotic, if not for the deadly grip she maintained on his throat. “Shut up! It’s not going to happen.”

 

The Master just grinned and wiggled his hips a little. “Oh Mellie,” he choked out. “I’d forgotten how much I like you when you’re younger.”

 

“Lay off,” she hissed. “I’m married.”

 

“You’re never.” He wheezed. “What? Did the Doctor whisper his name into your ear? Did little cartoon bluebirds sing as his secret passed into your heart?”

 

The Doctor slumped against the tardis doorframe. _Shit._

 

“No.” River said simply, removing her fingers from around the Master’s neck.

 

“Then you’re not married.” The Master rubbed at the little red marks she’d left. “You’re just another stupid, lovesick girl who’s going to throw her life away for him.”

 

She resumed her position beside the Master and laid her head on his shoulder. “I don’t care. That’s what makes me different from both of you. He sees the whole of time and space and he sees all this beauty worth saving and experiencing. You see something to possess and control. And, I just see how worthless it would all be if he wasn’t there.”

 

“You choose him?”

 

“Always and completely.”

 

The Master stood up and dusted himself off. He rubbed absently at the back of his head.

“I’m not giving up. Just think about it Melody, we could still sire a race of gods, you could rule the universe by my side.”

 

“That sounds just as unappealing now as it did when I was in Ledsworth.”

 

“It’ll sound a lot better when you’re staring into the eyes of your precious Doctor, and he doesn’t know a blessed thing about you,” the Master taunted her.  

 

“I know one hundred and twenty-six ways to kill you with the items in this cell. Don’t piss me off.”

 

River looked like she meant business and it gave the Doctor chills. He didn’t have much experience with her when she was this age, just Berlin and Area 51.

 

The Master sniffed the air. “You know what I can’t figure out Mels?”

 

“Empathy?”

 

“How it took him so long to figure you out. You smell just like a timelord, you positively reek of it.”

 

“Get out.” She threw a book at him playfully and hunkered down on her bed to write in her diary as the Master walked down the hall.

 

The Doctor carefully closed the tardis door, thinking that he should put off his first night with River until he knew a little better how to handle her. He gulped thinking that he had to figure out a way to tell her that they weren’t really married, not yet, without getting his own head slammed against a wall. Maybe he could propose, under a starry sky, with a ring – yes that was just the thing - a biodamper ring.  


	5. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the Doctor goes to Luna university, practices archaeology and unearths an old friend.

He leaned into the doorbell for the fourth time. What was taking her so long? He knew she was here, the Master was right about that, he could scent her the moment he walked out of his tardis and into the halls of Luna University. She had one of the better flats, usually reserved for faculty, top story, probably with an impressive view of the earth. He wondered briefly, as he jabbed at the doorbell for a fifth time, what she’d done to get it.

 

The Doctor was almost knocked to the ground when River lunged through the door, quickly slamming it behind her. Her hair was, if possible, more gloriously unkempt than it had been in Berlin, flying around face as if she’d just spent the afternoon in a wind-tunnel. Her face was clean without a trace of make-up, even her trademark lipstick was absent, although he noticed that her lips looked swollen and a little bruised.

 

“Hello Sweetie.” River stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as she tucked the white gauzy shirt she was wearing into a pair of fetching 20th century blue jeans.

 

“Are you just getting up? It’s four in the afternoon.” He thought he saw a half moon of little red marks on her collarbone.

 

“Hmmm? What?” She looked distractedly over his shoulder and down the hallway. This was not going to plan at all. He was supposed to be whisking her away and working up to some truly romantic gestures.

 

“I’m sorry Sweetie, but could you just give me a minute? Go on inside and I’ll be with you in just a moment.” She gently prodded him towards the door and then sauntered down the hall. He watched her walk away, she did look magnificent in those jeans.

 

The Doctor walked into River’s flat and sat down on the sofa. He was trying very hard not to snoop through her things, although he couldn’t help noticing that something was amiss. One of her curtains had been torn from its rod and lay in a messy little heap on the floor. Several glass vases had been knocked off the dining room table and a single red pump with a wickedly high heel, hung like a Christmas ornament from a dining chair. He was remembering the last time he’d seen that shoe, hanging from the tardis monitor when the door opened and River walked in carrying a stack of ancient, leather-bound books. She dropped them on the coffee table and then gasped in surprise when she finally looked up and saw him sitting there. She took two fumbling steps backwards, nearly tripping over the other shoe, as she took in the sight of him.

 

“Doctor? You’re, you’re here.”

 

“Of course I’m here, you told me to wait right here and so I did.” He hopped up and walked towards her. “The place is a wreck.” River looked around and took in the scene.

 

“Someone’s been here.”

 

“Yes,” he said taking in her outfit. She was wearing a blue oxford shirt and khaki jodhpurs tucked into knee high leather boots. He smiled to himself _different version_.  “Probably nothing to worry about, probably. Never mind all that, I came to ask you for a favor.”

  
“A favor?” She had regained a little of her self-possession and was now giving him an arch look. “What kind of a favor?”

 

“I find myself in need of an archaeologist.”

 

 

Hours later River sat cross legged on the bare earth sweeping a little device in slow circles over the ground. The Doctor stood at the controls of the tardis, doors open so that he could watch her working. Although, he had to focus some of his attention on the twelve metric tons of rubble that he was holding in a gravity field above her head.

 

“River, I know I’ve said it already, but this seems ridiculously dangerous.” She ignored him as the little device in her hand emitted a series of small blips. She checked the readings made a notation and then continued her scanning.

“Yes, I like it too.” She grinned over at him. “The diamond thingy that you want was buried forty feet down. This is the easiest way to remove the overburden and pinpoint its  location.”

 

“It’s not a diamond thingy,” he shouted irritably, “it’s a white point star and it’s the rarest type of diamond in the universe.” He had decided that it would make the most foolproof biodamper as white point stars were Gallifreian. It was quite tricky, River’s signature was really strong, stronger even than a true timelord. He would have to run some more thorough tests eventually, but a quick sweep with the sonic confirmed the basics. Two hearts, triple-helix dna and something else, he suspected whatever the something else was it was what allowed future her to go tripping so casually through the vortex with nothing but a manipulator on her wrist. Enough of that would make anyone, even a timelord, disoriented and violently ill. But River, she seemed to always get exactly where she wanted to be with no side effects. He watched her, studiously bent over her work, her blonde curls dusting the earth, the _Child of the Tardis_ , simply amazing.

 

“How did you know?” Her question interrupted his thoughts and at took him a moment to come back to himself.

 

“What?”

 

“How did you know that the rarest type of diamond in the universe would be buried in precisely this spot.”

 

“Because once, a long time ago, I broke one in half, right here and then there was a very big radiation event that I’m fairly sure would have embedded the fragments deep within the substructure of the building.”

 

“That building?” River asked pointing the excavation scalpel she’d been using to cut away some of the mineral deposits up at the rubble suspended ten feet in the air.

 

“The very same.” The Doctor took his eyes off the controls for a moment to check if River looked impressed. She did not, but she did look extremely alarmed as his momentary inattention caused the large mass to tip precariously off to one side.

 

“Ouch!”

 

“I didn’t drop any of it.” The Doctor said petulantly.

 

“No, I cut my hand, just a little bit. It’s fine, It’s just that something distracted me.” He cut his eyes over again to see her grinning at him, holding up her little device which was emitting excited little beeps. “I’ve got them.” She said in a reverent whisper. “There’s two pieces” She reached down with her uninjured hand and gingerly pried up the first fragment.  She held the glittering jewel up for him to see, marveling at it as she turned it to catch the light.

 

“It’s so beautiful, but it feels…I don’t know how to explain it, it doesn’t make sense. But, Doctor, it feels familiar.” River closed her eyes and the Doctor could feel her stretching out her senses, using that part of her that was _something else_ to explore the object in her hand _._ No wonder she made such a good archaeologist. Bit of a waste really. River opened her eyes, “it’s like it’s here in my hand, but it’s also so so far away and it’s trapped there and so sad and confused.” River was actually starting to cry.

 

“What.” The Doctor was alarmed now. There should be nothing, nothing left of the link to Gallifrey in that diamond. “River, you must think very carefully and tell me exactly what you are sensing. Are you telling me that the white point star – has _feelings_?”

 

“I can hear them,” she was sobbing now. “Why won’t they stop? I thought, he thought they would stop.”

 

“What can you hear?” River rocked back and forth on her knees, she fisted her hands against her temples, the blood from her small cut smearing across her face. The Doctor was frantic, he had to get to her but he calculated it would take him approximately 95 seconds to figure out some way to ionize the rubble pile he was precariously balancing so that he could safely move away from the controls. “River…Melody, what can you hear? Talk to me!” he ordered, wildly recalibrating the controls on the lift with one hand.

 

At the sound of her name, River lifted her head and said simply, “the drums.”

 

Of course, the star had been linked to the Master’s signature; the connection to him might have survived even when the link to Gallifrey was broken. And if River was experiencing an empathetic link to the Master, then he was caught in the nether space. But there was no reason he shouldn’t stay there, unless…unless…. “River, set the diamond down, just put it on the ground and walk to me.” She looked up at him and slowly, too slowly, lowered the white point star to the dirt at her knees. “That’s it, just let it go and it will let you go.” She nodded and stood shakily to her feet.

 

“That was…what was that.” River was standing on the spot, too stunned to walk. The Doctor finished punching in a series of commands on the control module and to his delight the large mass of rock and earth above their heads dematerialized. He walked over to her and looked down at the two little fragments of diamond lying in the dirt at her feet. The Master was in there and the Doctor was well aware that at some point he was going to get out again. But not today.

 

“That was a disaster narrowly avoided. I think it will be fine now. There’s a timelord consciousness linked to those fragments, but don’t worry I don’t think he could materialize here in this world." He reached out his hand to guide her away. "In order to do that we’d have to expose the link to...” Time slowed as he watched River turn and extend her injured hand to him, a single drop of her blood hung for an eternity from the little cut on her palm and then fell with excruciating slowness to land on the glittering stone. “…Artron radiation wrapped in a triple-helix protein structure.”

 

“Where would we find that?” River asked, stepping into his arms and pressing her shaking body against his as he hurriedly drug her backwards for a few steps.

 

He cradled her to him and stroked her hair as he watched a swirling mass of golden light burst into being. “Time Lord blood.”

 

They stood and gaped at the spectacle of blinding light. A faint outline of a thin man was beginning to burn against the air, like an afterimage.”

 

“I always wondered how this happened.” The Doctor sounded almost cheerful. “Now I know.” The man-shaped outline began to burn more solidly, hanging a few feet in the air. River gasped and stepped forward. “River, be careful.”

 

“But, I know him, he’s the Master.”

 

Suddenly, the light surrounding the Master winked out of existence and his body dropped to the ground with a lifeless thud. River was at his side in an instant. She turned him onto his back and sat with his head held in her arms. “I think he’s dead.” She sounded frantic with worry.

 

“He’s not dead,” the Doctor rolled his eyes dismissively so River could see just how little he cared about the Master’s current health. “He’s faking.”

 

“He’s not breathing,” River lowered the Master to the ground and pressed her ear against his lips. The Master’s right arm flew around River neck, seizing her in a vice-hold, he stood up quickly, dragging her up after him.

 

“I was holding my breath.” The Master’s eyes darted wildly around, taking in the ruins that had once been London and the time lord standing in front of him. “Doctor? You changed your face. I don’t like it.” He ignored the rasping sounds coming from the woman he was slowly suffocating. Where I am?”

 

“London, well the ruins of London. And it’s 6068.”  The Doctor glanced at River she was slowly working her scalpel from it’s holder on her belt.  “Do you recognize the place, you saved my life here, thank you by the way. You saved the earth. Master you can still be that man. You can choose to be great.”

 

The Master threw his head back and laughed a high manic sound that ricocheted off the desolate piles of stone and rubble that surrounded them. “I was there Doctor, I was in the void. But it’s not a void, because there was one thing that never ever left me.” The Master stalked forward, pulling River along, she staggered and dropped the scalpel. “Do you know what that was?”

 

“Drums,” River whispered harshly. The Master whipped his head around as if realizing for the first time that she was there. He slackened his hold on her neck and turned to examine her.

“That’s right,” he growled. “You know that don’t you. It was you I felt earlier. You were the one that reached into the void. Could you hear them?”

 

“Yes, they hurt.” River looked like she might start crying at the memory. She’d never looked more fragile. The Doctor wasn’t sure if it was some kind of clever ruse or if she were actually as terrified as she looked. “Why don’t you know me?”

 

“River, I’m so sorry. But, he hasn’t met you before. You’re not always going to meet people in the right order.” The Doctor’s hearts broke at the sight of her face, but he tried to keep his voice light. “It’s timey wimey.”

 

The Master gave River an assessing stare and then released his arm from around her neck. She stood motionless beside him catching her breath, she was badly bruised and she still had a fresh smear of blood on the left side of her face. Still, she was River, and even banged up she looked incredible. The Master squatted down to scoop up River’s excavation scalpel. He turned to the Doctor with a leer. “Doctor? Wherever did you get her?”  River tried to bolt away, but the Master grabbed her wrist, yanked her back and raised her bloodied palm to his nose, inhaling deeply.

 

“Listen to me, just listen for a moment, I can explain.” The Doctor was starting to see how this could all go very badly wrong. The Master was no longer paying any attention to him, he was utterly locked onto River, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

 

“It can’t be. They’re all gone, I saw them.”

 

“What is she?” Without waiting for a response the Master ran his tongue roughly over River’s bloody palm. River gasped at the pain as the Master started to laugh again, but this laugh was slow and full of madness.  “Amazing, Doctor. You, you wipe out our entire race and leave me trapped in the void for an eternity, but still somehow here you are with a woman, who smells and tastes of our kind and…” he prodded a finger painfully into River’s cut and then sucked on it thoughtfully, “…something more.” The Master laid his hand against her chest. “Two hearts, how promising.”

 

River looked frantically towards the Doctor, he could tell she wasn’t sure how to react. Clearly, her instincts were telling her that this man was a threat and he could see the assassin in River fighting for control, telling her to kill. But, she had known the Master, known him for many years. He’d protected her when she was young and whether the Doctor liked to think about it or not, they had been lovers. Maybe Melody Pond could kill him, but River Song couldn’t. The Doctor shook his head slightly to let her know he understood – _no, it’s ok._ She nodded, calm resolve settling over her features. He loved her so much in that moment; it was like watching her become whole.

The Master watched this exchange with interest. “Who is she to you, Doctor? The way you are looking at her…I know that look, I’ve seen it on your face before.” He turned to River and addressed her directly. “You tell me who you are or I’ll kill you for the sheer joy of watching him suffer.” He kept hold of her wrist in one hand and positioned the scalpel in his other.

 

River turned to him, “You really mean it,” she said sadly. “Listen to me, I know you. You’re egotistical and cruel and greedy and you have a terrible napoleon complex but you’re not crazy and you’d never hurt me. Something’s terribly wrong.”

 

“This is you talking me out of killing you?” The Master cocked an eyebrow at her.

 

“It’s the drums, River. They made him go mad when we were just children.” The Doctor inched forward, quickly devising a plan for separating the crazed killer with the very sharp tool from the love of his life. He needed to keep talking, “Master, you don’t want to underestimate River. You’re only alive right now because she wants you that way, she’s your friend...”

 

“Shut up Doctor!” The Master screamed, cutting him off. “Why can’t you just shut up?” He shook the scalpel at River. “Who are you?”

 

River looked lost in thought as she searched for an answer. Her shoulders slumped slightly inward and she studied her boots as she whispered, “I’m an assassin, I’m his assassin.”

 

“You’re so much more than that River.” Poor girl, she had no idea.

 

The Master looked at the woman standing next to him with incredulity.  “An assassin? Well you’re not a very good one are you?”

 

“Actually, she killed me in one minute and fifteen seconds, once she decided to.”

 

“You killed him?” The Master sounded almost cheerful for a moment.

 

“Yes, I did.” She choked out the words with a little sob, lifting her face to look at the Doctor. “I’m really very sorry about that, sweetie.”

 

“I’m not.” The Doctor smiled at her meaningfully, River stood up a little straighter at his words. She casually shifted her weight from foot to foot as she carefully stepped out of her stiff boots.

 

“Why are you taking off your shoes?” The Master scowled at her.

 

“So I don’t break your nose when I do this.” With a little smirk that reminded the Doctor that she would be _his_ River one day, she clasped her free hand over the Master’s, securing his grip on her wrist. She threw her weight to the side and swung her right foot hard into his face. As he staggered backwards, River turned her body into his, twisting his arm painfully so that he had to release his grip on her wrist. He fell, flailing, onto his ass in the dirt, but jumped right up and grinned at her like a maniac.

“Kitty has claws!” He cried delightedly, wielding the excavation scalpel like a knife in front of him as he advanced on her. He lunged at her but she deflected his blow and suddenly they were locked together in a vicious struggle. The Doctor watched her in awe for a moment. River’s smooth, studied forms flowed together with perfect execution. It was true what the Master had told him. She’d clearly been trained in fighting styles from a hundred different worlds and her reflexes were so fast, it made him wonder if she was time shifting just a little bit. But, still the Master clearly had the advantage because he meant to kill River, while she was just trying to subdue him. She was holding back. The Master kicked her brutally in the stomach and River was thrown against a wall. She glared over at him, “don’t just stand there, help me!” He raised his sonic thinking that he could at least disable the Master’s weapon, which he would have done, except she barreled back into the fight, catching the Master in the chest with her shoulder. The Doctor exhaled in exasperation and scanned around for something useful. There in the dirt at his feet were the two glittry white point star fragments. _Of course_ , he thought, _there’s still a biometric link_. He aimed his sonic at the diamonds and thought loud thoughts.

 

The Master fell to his knees clutching at his ears and screaming in pain as the sound of drums boomed through his mind. “Stop it now.” River’s voice was harsh. “He’s in so much pain.” The Doctor carefully severed the link between the diamond fragments and the Master before slipping the pieces into his pocket and walking over where River was talking to the Master in a low, steady voice.

 

“Shhh, I know. I know. It’s OK now. I’m going to help you.” River was stroking one hand gently along the Master’s temple.

 

“Just kill me. Make them stop. I just want them to stop.” The Master was writhing hysterically, his eyes jumping wildly from River to the Doctor. River was leaning in very close to the Master, her hand still stroking his temple and suddenly the Doctor knew what she was planning.

 

“River you can’t help him, just move away – go get some handcuffs. Do you have handcuffs?”

 

“No, I can do this. I heard them, the drums, I know where they are.” She lowered her forehead to the Master’s and he jerked violently. They both screamed out as the Master jabbed the scalpel upwards into the soft curve of her belly. The Doctor watched as River held his head tightly in place with both her hands, her blood seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt. “There, see that’s where they are,” she murmured so quietly that the Doctor could barely hear her.

 

“So far away and still so close, I, no, I won’t look…”The Master thrashed around in her grip, his movements pushing the sharp edge of the scalpel deeper into her abdomen. She didn’t even flinch. The Doctor could feel her pushing against the fabric of reality, accessing the vortex which was always there pulsing along just beneath the surface. For a second an acrid odor mingled with the smell of sweat and River’s blood and then she collapsed, bleeding and unconscious onto the Master.

 

“It’s gone.” The Master looked up, his clear, blue eyes, finding the Doctor’s. “She did it.”

 

“Help me!” The Doctor urged, rolling River onto her back and just like that they were friends again, united in a common purpose. The Master used the scalpel to cut away River’s shirt and pressed it to the ragged hole in her skin as the Doctor checked her vital signs with his sonic. “Let’s get her onto the Tardis, quickly.” Together they lifted her and made their way through the ruins of London to the spot where the tardis stood, blue and brilliant against the grey desolation. The Master kept steady pressure on River’s wounds and they managed to bundle her through the upper corridors and into the little clinic that was currently three doors down past the library.

 

Two hours later they stood side by side, watching River’s hearts beat steadily on one monitor and watching the results of a very thorough medical scan scroll by on another. The information confirmed what the Doctor already knew. She is miraculous. She is not a time lord or a human. She is more than the sum of her parts, she is something new. The Master turned to him, smiling. “We are not alone.”

 

“I know.” The Doctor let himself reveal his own amazement. “Mmy gorgeous, amazing girl.” He bent over and brushed his lips against her forehead tenderly.

 

The Master seemed amused by this outpouring, “The Doctor in love,” he teased gently, “Will you invite me to the wedding? Oooh, We’ll teach your children to call me Uncle Harold. I always wanted to be an uncle.” He chuckled to himself happily.

 

“Can’t,” the Doctor laughed, “Wedding’s already happened, well the first one, well for me at least. It’s still in her future so mums the word.” He smiled delightedly at his friend, happy to finally have someone to confide in, but he quickly deflated as he caught the look of fury that was growing in the Master’s face.

 

“What do you mean, it hasn’t happened for her?” He snarled in a low, dangerous tone. “Doctor, please, please tell me that you are not dischronologic. Even you are not that reckless.” The Master glared at him, looking for all the world like a very irate Academy instructor.

 

“Ummm, well we could be a tiny bit off.”  The Doctor shuffled from foot to foot and then careened around the room making a series of unnecessary adjustments to the little tubes that were slowly dripping medicine, keeping River asleep while she healed.

 

“Doctor. You stupid, selfish old man. You know as well as anyone what this means. Dischronologic relationships are dangerous. You risk universe-shattering paradoxes with each encounter. How entangled are your timelines?” The Doctor made a noncommittal shrugging gesture which only infuriated his friend further. “It’s a death sentence. You know how these things always work - the universe can’t bear that much chaos for long and it will seek balance.” The Master stopped short at the look on the Doctor’s face. “Doctor,” he said more gently, “Has it already happened?”

 

The Doctor thought of River, brave even when she was crying, bringing two wires to touch in a cascade of burning light. He thought of her lying unconscious in another hospital bed, her lives cut short. His throat felt so hot and tight that he had to force out the words, the truth, in a harsh whisper.  “She died to save me, the first time I met her.” And then the Doctor did something he’d never done, not in all their long centuries, he walked into the Master’s arms and cried.


	6. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He reserved her real name for these moments, when all the pretending and pretense seemed like another life and they were just two people in love, naked and tangled in each other.

“You’re determined to do this?” The Master and the Doctor were standing on opposite sides of the tardis’s main console, the time rotor slipped up and down between them with a steady whirring sound. They’d been talking for over an hour, and now the Master’s voice held a tone of weary resignation; the Doctor would always win in a war of words.

 

“We’ll be careful. There will be rules.” The Doctor assured him.

 

“I’ll stop you somehow.” The Master shrugged to indicate that this was obvious. “She’s too valuable to lose; she could mean a future for our race.”

 

The Doctor clenched his jaw, “That’s, that’s just wrong. We’re not the last two pandas in the zoo.”

 

The Master gave him an icy look. “I don’t think you have any moral high ground to stand on, Doctor. The man who exterminated our entire species can’t afford such sentimentality.” The Doctor’s shoulders slumped forward, he stood still, staring blindly at the monitor as the Master came to stand next to him. "You’re a selfish old man, but  maybe she will see reason. She can’t really want to live her life with so many secrets.”

 

The Doctor lifted his head, eyes darkened with emotion. “I haven’t actually explained it to her yet.”

 

“Explained what to me?” River stood in the corridor in a thin ivory robe. She must have just had a shower, because her curls fell in damp ringlets around her face. Her face was softer, less lined – she looked years younger.

 

“What did you do to your face? The Doctor scowled at her, furious at himself suddenly. When she looked young like this it was harder to tell himself comforting lies. Here was River, young, impressionable and so trusting and he was going to lead her by the hand to her death.

 

“I took the age down a little to augment the healing process.” She sauntered forward, the satin of her robe making a little swishing sound, she positioned herself between the Doctor and the controls. The light from the time rotor shone through the thin fabric, silhouetting her curves. She watched him, smirking as his guilt and irritation gave way to the unstoppable force of attraction. He flushed and tugged at his bow-tie. “Explained what to me?” She repeated, twirling a finger through her drying curls.

 

“Later.” The Doctor gulped, “When you’re older.”

 

“Yes, how old are you River?” The Master asked looking up from the keyboard where he’d been tapping coordinates.

 

“I don’t know, somewhere in my seventies, I think.”

 

The Doctor’s blush deepened and he ran a hand through his hair. “I know, I know, I’m practically robbing the cradle, sorry.” He shrugged in a gesture of apology to no one in particular.

 

River grinned like a minx, but the Master looked up as if he’d been jolted. “Yes, that will work.” He murmured, drumming his fingers together in thought. He returned his focus to the keyboard, rapidly typing for a moment before reaching up and pulling the plotter lever to his right. “I’m afraid I have to be going.”

 

“Where are you going?” River asked. The Doctor knew exactly where he was going and what was going to happen, but decided to not risk a universe-ending paradox by trying to stop it. _Rubbish_ , he reminded himself firmly.

 

“I’m going to find you, a younger version of you.” The Master strode around the control room and rummaged through a box of equipment, pulling out a handful of items. “I’ll take these, I can fashion some kind of vortex diversion device, don’t want to have to ask you for lifts all the time.” He smiled sweetly at the Doctor and stashed his haul in a leather bag which he swung over his shoulder.

 

“It won’t work.” River said simply, before the Doctor cut her off mouthing “spoilers.”

 

“Oh River, River – I think you’ll find I can be quite persuasive and I’m very, very good at rewriting timelines. Better explain the rules soon, Doctor, before she blows a hole in the universe.”

 

The Master swung a lever and brought the tardis to land. “Try not to get too attached,” he called as he walked toward the door. “I’ll find you early enough to fix this even if I have to take you from your cradle.” He saluted to them in farewell and slammed the door shut behind him.

 

“Get in line.” River deadpanned, turning to the Doctor with a huge grin. “You know, it’s fun being the person who knows more.” She sidled up to him and bit her bottom lip a little, “Will I ever know more than you?”

 

“You know, River, that was a very brave and selfless thing you did back there.” The Doctor twirled around the control room, resetting all the controls before coming to a rest in front of her and tapping her lightly on the nose.

 

She shrugged slightly, deflating a little as she considered his words. “When I was little he helped me, maybe I’m just acting in my own self interest.” The Doctor sighed sadly, this River was so quick to believe the worst about herself. He folded her into his arms and rocked her gently back and forth.

 

“It doesn’t work like that, River. You helped him because you couldn’t stand to see someone you cared about in pain.” He paused considering his words and remembering her face, lit with compassion, as she stood on top of a pyramid. “You are the kind of person who will do anything to save the people you love.”

 

She lifted her face to his and he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. A pink blush spread across her cheeks. “You know everything about me, don’t you?”

 

“Absolutely everything. Now, you deserve a treat. Where to, my gorgeous girl?”

 

River hopped up onto the console, her slippery robe falling away from the smooth golden skin of her thighs as she crossed her legs. “Well,” she purred “I did loose my favorite boots. Why don’t we go shoe shopping?”

 

He took her to Italy, not the country, the planet. They paraded around the endless market streets until River stopped dead in front of a window. The Doctor came up behind her and chuckled to himself when he saw what had caught her attention. The window display was dark, draped in lush black velvet. In the middle of the space a white column of light illuminated a single pair of familiar, red stilettos.

 

She insisted on going to change her outfit the moment they got back on board. “Just put them on now,” he protested, “they’ll look great with that black dress you’re wearing.” River still had on the little black strapless dress she’d worn all day in Italy, but she shook her head.

 

“No, I’ve got something special in mind.” She disappeared up the stairs with her new shoes. While she was changing the Doctor set the coordinates for her flat at Luna and landed in her kitchen. He needed to take her back to University and get to work on making that biodamper for her older self to wear. He reached into his pocket and took out the two little glittering diamonds. Maybe earrings would work. He was lost in technical thoughts, bent over the controls, when River cleared her throat to announce her presence.

 

The first thing he noticed were the shoes, River was posing at the bottom of the steps wearing her new shoes, with one hand set jauntily on her hip. Her fingernails were painted to match. The second thing he noticed was that she was only wearing the shoes, then he stopped noticing anything at all. His legs carried him towards her and without talking, or even really thinking, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He could see she was surprised, she’d expected him to be flustered and nervous.  And he had been, ages ago, when he’d met her older self at Asgard, right after the events of Demon’s Run. She’d shown up with a picnic basket filled with blankets and nothing else. She hadn’t taken it easy on him, either, that first time. Turn about’s fair play.

River liked sex hard and rough, although occasionally she could be counted on for a sweet, languorous pace that would leave him begging for mercy before the end. By the time he’d met her in Berlin she’d given him a thorough education. He knew her body from the inside out. He knew what she liked. For example, he knew she would gasp in pleasure if he trailed his tongue down her neck and nipped at the pulse point at the base of her throat, just so. He nipped, she gasped. He smiled smugly against her skin, this was going to be very, very fun.

 

The Doctor staggered, mostly naked, out of the tardis and into River’s flat, struggling to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other without stopping his exploration of River’s warm, soft mouth. He was carrying her clutched to him, her legs wrapped around his waist. She was doing things with her hips that were making him crazy. He paused for a moment in his search for a yielding horizontal surface, strike that, _any_ horizontal surface as a particularly well timed gyration nearly sent him over the edge. He lost his balance and toppled forward, slamming River’s back against a window and pushing himself, almost painfully, into her. His hand grasped a thick velvety curtain that ripped and fell to the ground as they slid together onto the floor. She was pinned underneath him and he took advantage of the opportunity to grasp both her wrists with his right hand, holding her captive as he thrust into her. She was so close, he could hear it in the wild abandon of her screams.

River hooked her knee around his and they rolled together, slamming into the legs of a table, and then she was on top of him positioning her knees on either side of his hips and moving with savage intensity, rolling her hips. He arched his back attempting to get further inside her, but she kept him at a distance, teasing him with short little strokes. Finally, when he thought he was going to explode she slammed her hips down, engulfing him inside her and crying out with the pleasure of it. He rolled onto her again. 

 

She hooked the heel of one shoe onto the back of a dining room chair, affording him a delicious angle. He pumped his hips at an excruciating pace as he sunk his teeth into the tender skin above her collar bone. River screamed ecstatically as she came and he paused, holding back his own release so he could watch her. He loved the way sex transformed her face, all her emotions laid bare for him to see. She gave herself to him with such abandon; she was so open in these moments. It was always like that, intensely intimate; he supposed it was because they spent so much time concealing things from one another. He wanted to show her that _this_ was what was real. There would be days when she would have to conceal and pretend and lie, but for now there was no need. She had no memories of him that he did not share. He pressed his hips against her and started to move again, very slowly. He gave her one more soft, probing kiss before gently pressing his forehead to hers, flowing like light into her mind.

 

Her eyes flew open and she started to move under him, urging him faster. He could feel her amazement, she was lost in wonder that they fit so perfectly, that he actually wanted her and that she wanted him in return. She’d never let herself believe in ridiculous things like love, not until Berlin. But now she couldn’t get enough. She was ravenous for him and it was this thought that pulled him over the edge, as she came again. He moaned her name over and over again into her hair. He reserved her real name for these moments, when all the pretending and pretense seemed like another life and they were just two people in love, naked and tangled in each other.

 

They lay like that, a jumble of sweaty limbs and he listened to the familiar double beat of River’s hearts as they slowed. He was thinking that he could lie here and hold her forever. The carpet was soft and that curtain he’d pulled down would make a wonderful blanket. He sat bolt upright. The curtain.

 

“Doctor, what’s wrong?’ River sat up too, looking concerned. He grinned at her and  tapped her lightly on the nose just as the doorbell buzzed insistently. “How did you know that was going to happen?” River turned quizzically toward the front door as the doorbell buzzed a second time. “Who is it?”

 

“Me, it’s me.” The Doctor sprang to his feet and helped River up, surveying the wreck they’d made of the flat. “Quickly, clothes!” River sprang down the hallway and reappeared pulling on a pair of jeans and carrying a white shirt. The doorbell rang a third time.

 

“You’re a bit impatient.” River said, jumping from foot to foot as she shimmied herself into the jeans. The view of a half-clad River bouncing about was extremely distracting, so he wasted a few moments just staring as River pulled a gauzy white shirt on over her head. “Why can’t I just let you in?”

 

“Because, River, that would be bad. I’ll explain it all very soon I promise. Now, you’ve got to tell me to wait here for you and then get out of here before you run into yourself.”

 

“What?” River stood dumbfounded before him.

 

“I’m sorry, I know, it’s all timey-wimey. I’ll see you next time, OK. Just try not to tell younger me anything.” He kissed her quickly. “Oh, the face – age yourself up a bit.” She did, she actually had perfect control – which was a bit disconcerting, the Master had said that a woman, a guardian, had taught her. Who could have done that? But that was a question for another day.

 “Perfect. Got to go.” He pushed her toward the door as the doorbell buzzed for a fifth time and very carefully put the tardis in silent mode. He caught a glance of his own face on the scanner before he spun away into the vortex, smiling at the two little diamonds that twinkled up at him from the console. Earrings would work perfectly.


	7. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the "First Night" Night and the Doctor short. The Doctor takes River to see the stars and clarifies his views on the state of their union. This has very little Master in it, although he is sort of mentioned once. Don't fear, he'll be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read the other chapters of this increasingly long work - it's OK. 
> 
> I want more excuses to write ten, I love ten...maybe too much.

They stood, hand in hand, under a starry sky -the starriest sky that would ever be. She’d finally settled on a pale, silvery dress and now, standing in the starlight, she positively glimmered. He pulled her against his chest and kissed the top of her head before breathing in very deeply. OK. Now or never.

 

“River, come sit down over here for a moment. I have something I want to talk to you about.” She looked at him, took in his grim expression and followed him obediently to a low stone bench on the edge of the viewing platform. He flopped onto the bench as she settled herself beside him. He watched her bite her lip nervously while he worked up his courage. “River, I want you to have this.” He handed her a little blue velvet box and watched as she opened it.

 

“The white point stars,” River whispered turning the box this way and that, causing the earrings to sparkle in the light. “What’s the occasion?”

 

“Consider them a wedding present.” He threw the words out casually and then leaned back and looked up at the sky with an air of carefully studied cool. He wasn’t nervous; it would be ridiculous to be nervous.  

 

“Is this you asking me to marry you?”

 

“Nope," he quipped, grinning at her, "already married.” A slow, gorgeous blush crept across her cheeks a he took the little box from her hands and carefully positioned the jewels on her earlobes. He leaned back to admire his work, she looked ravishing and the effect of the biodampner was immediate. “Perfect,” he said, taking a long breath through his nose, “I can’t smell you at all. These are biodampers. With these on, you’ll always pass as for human.”

 

River narrowed her eyes. “Human? I’m not human, not completely. You told me so yourself last time we met, on the Hindenburg. You said I’m something new.”

 

“Shhh, River, spoilers." He knitted his eyebrows and droped his voice a register. "Remember what I told you. We never meet in sequence – you can’t talk to me about things that haven’t happened yet for me. That’s why we do the diaries.”

 

“You haven’t done the Hindenburg?” Her voice was suddenly sad. Oh this wasn't going to plan at all. He forced himself to smile at her cheerfully.

 

“Not yet, but I will do someday – isn’t that brilliant?”  River looked at him doubtfully. “You understand the physics. We have to be very careful what we say to each other or else we risk a paradox.” He moved his hand to her back, moving his palm up and down in slow, soothing strokes. River shrugged out of his embrace and looked over at him, her eyes ablaze.

 

“These earrings aren’t for me.” She stood up quickly and took a step away from him. “They’re for you.”

He watched in mute helplessness as expressions of rage and heartbreak flew across her face. She was an open book. It was inconceivable that his stoic, brave River could ever emerge from this woman. She took a jagged breath and continued on in a harsh whisper. “Doctor, why do you need me to wear these? And, don’t you dare say spoilers or so help me I will actually kill you.”

 

“I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry. But you will meet younger versions of me someday. Stupid, scared versions of me and I can’t know what you are.”

 

“He’s been telling me the truth.” River nodded to herself as if affirming a long-suspected fact. “The Master, he said something like that would happen.”  She sat down again slowly and pulled her knees up against her chest, staring hard at nothing in particular, looking for all the world like a child trying not to cry.

“Yes,” the Doctor said gently. He longed to touch her but he knew she wouldn’t welcome it, so he watched her instead. She huddled into herself, arms wrapped around her legs, forehead tucked into her knees. A year ago he would have been furious with himself for not letting her go. Now, he felt only resolve, but she deserved to make a choice. She deserved to know.  “It’s dangerous River, so stupidly dangerous. I need you to understand what you are getting into.”

 “Because we could easily rip a hole in the universe over dinner?” Her voice was flat and sardonic in a way that clearly communicated that she did not give a fuck about the state of the universe.

“Well yes there’s that. But even more is that you, your birth and all the terrible things that had to happen to make you you. Those things happen in a timestream in which I don’t _know_ who and what you are. So you can’t tell me.” He inched closer to her on the cold stone bench and carefully wound his arm behind her back pulling her against his side. “You are an impossible thing, River. You are _my_ impossible miracle. You have no idea how fragile and shifting time can be, especially our time.” She leaned into him then, her curls brushing the edge of his jaw as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“How do I do it, my love?” She murmured the words into the fabric of his jacket, her voice low and muffled. “I know it sounds stupid, but I just don’t think I can handle it.  Well, I think I can handle knowing more than you, that might even be fun.”

 “Yes,” he agreed kissing the top of her head lightly. “I thought you might enjoy that a bit.”

She raised her face to his then and looked at him steadily, “But a you that doesn’t love me…I don’t think I can manage that. It just sounds so horrible.”

 

It did sound horrible. But the truth was it hadn't been horrible at all for him. She'd scared him and delighted him but most of all she'd given him a glimpse of his future, a future full of love and trust. If she could just know what she'd meant to him, from their very first meeting, then she would be able to handle everything that was to come. "No River, it wasn't horrible."

He brought his hands up to gently cradle her face, watching the starlight play across her sad, sea green eyes for a moment before leaning in to press a  kiss to her mouth. He nipped at her bottom lip gently, as he pressed his forehead to hers. He showed her then, opened a door into his past. It was like watching a stranger from the inside out, he had forgotten how sad he’d felt, how burdened with his actions. He let her feel the memory along with him.

> Donna walked up the steps out of the control room headed for bed and probably a good, long cry. He had been standing at the scanner, feeling an odd mixture of sadness for what Donna had lost, but also something he hadn’t felt in a long while, hope for himself. He had a future beyond the Ood’s strange warning, a future in which he would trust someone – completely. He rolled his narrow shoulders and snuck a furtive glance around the control room, making sure Donna was gone before he gently tapped in a request on the monitor. Not information, no, he wanted this surprise to last as long as possible, just a picture.  As he finished typing he frowned up at the results. _What? Only four images found_? His fingers hovered over the keyboard, maybe he should wait, parse them out slowly. He solemnly resolved to just look at one. The image instantly filled his screen. A crush of people, all slightly out of focus, their movement swirling around the radiant creature who stood at the center of the frame, laughing like mad amidst the sea of dancers. Her head was thrown back just a little and she was laughing so hard that she was leaning, almost falling over her partner, who held onto her with a tender possessiveness.
> 
> He had placed a finger against the monitor and traced the line of her jaw, marveling at how her face was transformed with joy. He’d stood there for what felt like hours, just looking at her. He barely knew her, but she’d impressed him. She’d been brave and clever and so in love. She had given him a taste of her unshakable devotion. And now he had this glimpse into her life. Now he had this one stolen moment, captured in a blur of color and motion. He imagined himself in the scene; he was the man she leaned against, it was his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He’d closed his eyes with the rush of the fantasy and felt purely and insanely happy.

She pulled back, gasping as she struggled to surface from the memory. He looked at her now, so young and scared - like he had been. He was absolute rubbish at talking about feelings, really he could talk about almost anything else - all day if you like. But this was terrifiying. She would be brave for him one day, now it was his turn.e reached over and pushed a stray spiral of hair away from her face, letting his hand run down along the length of her jaw. “I promise you, I started loving you the day I met you. How could I not?”

           

She kissed him then, her lips moving over his with slow, soft movements. On cue, a swell of music filled the air. They turned together to see that the platform was now crowded with couples, come to dance beneath the stars.

 

“Will you dance with me, wife?” He spoke the words without breaking their embrace so that each word vibrated against her lips. She shivered involuntarily and nodded her assent. He led her over away from the stone benches and back towards the center of the platform where he did his best to sweep her around in tune to the waltz. But really, coordination and grace were not really his forte, so mostly he ended up trodding on her feet. The song changed to something livelier and soon he was spinning her around twirling her until she was laughing and so dizzy that he had to keep hold of her so she wouldn't fall. She steadied herself, placing one hand against his chest and ginning up at him mischievously.

 

“I’ll keep the present, but I don’t know if I think we’re really married.”

He gasped in mock-horror and clasped a hand dramatically over his hearts to show how wounded he was.

River raised an eyebrow at him and adopted her very best professorial tone. “You were in a giant robot replica of yourself, so technically – I married a robot. I think that’s illegal in most centuries.” She paused and repositioned her hands on his shoulders as the music shifted and all the dancers slowed. He led her through a few steps before she continued speaking. “Plus, you didn’t tell me your name, so according to the laws of your people we’re not really married.”

He stopped dancing suddenly and frowned down at her. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Who told you that?”

“Who do you think?” she said giving him a level look that said he knew good and damn well who had told her.

The Doctor exhaled and then smiled at his exasperating wife. She was going to need quite a bit of wooing. But they were here, dancing under the stars in what was undoubtedly one of the most magical nights in all of time and space, so he felt like he was doing fairly well so far on the grand romantic gestures front. He swept an arm around her waist and resumed their dance as he proceeded to set her straight on the state of their connubial union.

“First of all, we’re married, regardless of what I was wearing. And I, for one, think my outfit was ingenious.” She started to protest but he shushed her, pressing a finger to her lips. “I was there. You were there. Your parents were there. They gave their consent. It counts, on a thousand different worlds.”

“But not on Gallifrey?” She was smiling shyly now, but something like doubt still clouded her expression.

 

He took her by the shoulders and looked at her firmly. “Melody Pond, the Timelords had no binding more powerful than the one we experienced in Berlin. It was outlawed, because the union it creates, when it works, is so powerful that causality actually bends around it. Personal timelines so entangled that you can’t tell the beginning from the end. He drew her into the circle of his arms, pressing his forehead against hers until he felt her mind open and the warm ache of their union begin to wash over them. “We’re connected, River, you and me - always and completely.” He said the words out loud but he hadn’t needed to-she was flowing through him now. She held the key to every chamber of his heart, there was no place within him that she could not access. Well, there was one. He felt her knock against the sharp edges of the one secret that was still locked tight against her.

He dipped his head, breaking the connection between them, and whispered into her ear. “But, you’re right too. The ceremony up on the pyramid _was_ incomplete.”

 

River clung to him and swayed in time to the music. “It’s more than just a secret, isn’t it?”Her voice sounded small and fragile, she’d gotten close to his secret, close enough to feel its dark outlines, and it had scared her.  _It should_ , he thought. Now she was beginning to understand.

“It’s a really dangerous secret and you don’t trust me with it?”

 

Or maybe she didn't understand at all. He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. “Oh you impossibly dense girl, of course I trust you, with everything. But, you don’t understand, that's not how it works. I can’t just tell you - that would be cruel. It’s such a terrible burden. The question must be asked and _you_ have to ask me.”

River looked up at him with calm resolve. “Then I’ll ask.”

A long moment passed as he just looked at her. She was so very young and so beautiful and so willing to let him destroy her. But if anyone could handle the knowledge it was her. “Okay,” he exhaled a long slow breath and looked down at his shoes. “Okay. But not tonight. Not yet, just wait. I need for you to be ready.”

To his amazement she didn’t argue. She just took him by the hand and led him slowly away from the crush of dancers and back towards the gate. As they were leaving a boy pressed a photograph into the Doctor’s hand. He was some local kid, probably made money off taking pictures of tourists. Plus, it was a good shot. He raised it to his eyes and laughed out loud, reaching into his pockets for something to give the boy.

Later that evening, after he’d proven to River just how married they were, he would load that picture into the Tardis memory banks. It’s a lovely shot, even if it’s a little out of focus. But he didn’t need to look at it – he knew it by heart. After Donna was gone, he had so many lonely months, those had been dark days. But, always, this image had been solace – a touchstone of some future unimaginable happiness. River laughing in the crush of dancers, his hands steadying her, his left shoulder slightly out of frame. Finally, he was the man in the photograph. He tucked the picture into his pocket and squeezed River’s hand.  He wondered vaguely how much time they would have, but he quickly forced the thought to the back of his mind. They were beginning.

 

Allons-y!


	8. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this Final chapter, the Doctor must deal with his grief and anger after the loss of Amy and Rory. But are the days of his last Pond endless or numbered? What will she sacrifice for love of him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone who read this whole, long series. I've finally found the time and courage to wrap it up. Thank you so much for your kind comments and "likes". 
> 
> If you are new to this and don't want to committ to a big long saga. You can probably read this last chapter as a stand-alone. It might make sense. 
> 
> THis is a combo of a Library Fix-It and my own mullings about what could happen in the future of the series. So spoilers for everything we've seen so far abound in this work.

 

Their days felt endless - days when he would pop into her University and whisk her away from her archaeological studies for an education of an entirely different kind, and nights when he would nudge her awake, the springs of her stormcage cot protesting against his weight as he sat watching her eyelids flutter open. 

And, their days felt numbered; particularly in the dark days after he lost his Ponds. They grieved together for a short while, both of them too afraid to name what they’d lost – _their family_ , the four of them had been _a family_. Now it was only they two clinging to each other in the dark certainty that this too was ending. Her time was ending. She knew. The Master had made sure of that. Oh, she didn’t know when or where. But, when he visited Professor Song in her house in New Oxford her death lay unspoken between them – a chasm they could not bridge.

So he sought out her younger selves, delighting in her carefree laughter. And then it started happening. He couldn’t find her. He knew where and when she was obviously, River Song’s days in University and Stormcage were a matter of recorded fact.  But he’d show up only to find that she was gone and then he’d remember, _of course, how stupid_! He’d already lived this particular day. She was off adventuring with some younger version. He was afraid to count her days, but finally he was forced to – a universal calendar and his own diary spread out on his library desk. He furiously scrawled an angry red x over each day he’d casually spent, hating himself more and more for every misstep, every day spent in argument or distrust. A few hundred days he circled in yellow – these days he couldn’t find her but he knew he hadn’t spent with her, these days were her own, her adventures. A few more were circles in red – days he had spent with her, but maybe there was a little time left if he was careful. He danced with her in the moonlight outside Amy and Rory’s wedding, ducking behind a tree and pushing her towards his younger self when the smug bastard came striding out. He rubbed her bare feet and teased her mercilessly about her getup as they lounged in a Roman camp outside Stonehenge. He’d just managed to duck off the settee and crawl under the canvas as he heard Amy’s startled voice “Hello River.”

 Five days were circled in green, mostly her New Oxford time and one rare day left very early in her stormcage years. The numbered days of Professor River Song he thought. He must use them wisely. He did the last one first. Darillium and try as he might he couldn’t get through it without crying – just as she’d said. From then on, he tried to save them for special times, times when he was cheerful. He would not; he just flat refused to see her when he was brooding and sullen. So he locked himself away at the top of a winding staircase in a shroud of cloud and mist. But then, there was Clara and a mystery to solve. Life seemed worth living again and he felt less of a miserable wreck of a man. Not trusting his good mood to last he decided to pay his wife a visit.

 He really did love River’s house in New Oxford. It had surprised him really, the first time he’d visited, years and years ago, when his Ponds were still part of his present.  A small, rotating group of people and _not_ people called it home. River joked that she was running a sanctuary for the Doctor’s misplaced strays. He had nicknamed the place Haven.

 It was Jack who took him there that first time. He was in his seventh century and looking pretty good, but only because he’d met a guy who was a wizard in cosmetic biolift procedures. Jack had introduced the blonde, handsome man as his husband, Peter. Vastra and Jenny had been staying over as well, for them it was right after Demon’s Run and they were helping River keep an eye on Strax who was still recovering from his brief episode of being dead. River had opened up some bottles of wine and they’d all been sitting around in her back garden, giving Jack a hard time when the Master had strolled in through the gate. He’d casually sprawled in the grass near River’s feet and arched an eyebrow at the Doctor.

 “No, no. no that’s not how it happened,” Jack continued as Vastra passed the Master a glass of wine. “I wake up fresh out of plastic surgery and I see this gorgeous guy and all I can think is – I can’t feel my tongue.”

 “And he’s starting to really freak out,” River cut over Jack and waved her glass around in the air, “He just keeps saying, ‘I can’t use my tongue’. He’s saying it over and over.” She was laughing so hard she swished some wine on the Master, who scooted over a few feet out of range. “And then, then he was, he said, with these big puppy eyes,” River took a deep breath in between her giggling fit, ‘will it work again?’”

 “Right then and there I showed him that it would.” Peter shouted triumphantly to uproarious laughter from the crowd.

They’d thrown a little party that first night. Jack built a crackling bonfire and Jenny taught them all a raucous drinking song. The Master had thoroughly embarrassed him with a story from his freshmanAcademy year. He’d turned bright red as he watched River throw back her curls and laugh with abandonment. He’d been pleased that River had company, yet slightly displeased to learn that the Master was a frequent resident of Haven.

 “Does he sleep here often?” He’d asked with careful nonchalance as he sat on River’s bed, watching her change into her nightdress. She stopped halfway through unbuttoning her shirt to smirk at him.

 “Here” she said stretching out her palms to indicate the house “or _here_ ” she purred moving over to him and patting the cushy bed. He pulled her closer and set to work on the remaining blouse buttons. He pushed her shirt open and cupped her breasts greedily. She gave him a seductive smile.

 “I love it when you get possessive.” She gasped out as he tangled one hand in her hair and yanked her forward to meet his lips.

 “Yes,” he mumbled against her cheek as he grazed kisses along her jaw on his way to bite at her neck. “You mentioned that.” He didn’t press her, he knew her answer already and truly it wouldn’t make any difference. Besides, he had yet to actually live the moment when he told River his name. But she had. She had moaned out the syllables almost reverently as he made love to her that night. As if reminding him that he belonged to her.

 The Doctor had returned to Haven dozens of times since that first night, usually finding some constellation of friends, roommates and houseguests drinking or playing strip croquet or arguing about philosophy out on River’s wide, green garden lawn. The house had the feel of a 19th century private club with an extra helping of decadent hedonism. It was so very River. Now at last, he felt like shaking off his gloom and going back to have a bit of fun.

 The Doctor merrily pointed the TARDIS’s controls towards Haven. He couldn’t wait to tell the gang about Clara. They may have even met her already, although River had them all very well spoiler trained, maybe he’d pick up a clue. He checked his hair in the mirror and swung his favorite croquet mallet over his shoulder before sauntering out the door and into the parlor at Haven House.

 The first thing he registered was the silence. The place was normally a riot of conversation or just a riot. “Hello, anyone home?” he asked tentatively stepping into the hallway and working his way towards the back kitchen. He felt his blood freeze in his veins. Had he come too late? Was this Haven house in the weeks after River left for the Library never to return? No, no. Surely no. He’d checked the dates quite carefully, he had to now, or else risk running into himself. No this was before; this was years before the Library. Still, he skulked down the hallway and laid an ear against the swinging door that led into River’s kitchen. Someone was in there, talking in a low serious tone.

 

He inched open the door and caught a sliver of the scene. River sat, mostly naked, on the wide marble counter, clutching a towel against her heaving chest, while the Master bent over her working fast with a needle and thread over several deep gashes in her forearm. The Doctor could see two sets of clean, neat stitches on her abdomen and a third on her upper thigh. The Master was talking to her in a steady voice.

 

“Just breathe Melody, just focus on breathing, in and out. You don’t have a respiratory bypass, so I need you to breathe. I know it hurts.”

 

“Don’t be nice to me, Harry please, I can’t take it right now.” River forced the words through clenched teeth.

 

“Oh, you know I love it when you call me Harry.” The Master winked at her. “Now who’s being nice?”

 

River was looking around the comfortable kitchen gazing out the screen door into the blooming green garden out back. “Is this really going to be my house one day?”

 

“Yep.” The Master answered simply taking a clean dishtowel from a drawer and patting some of the blood away from her shoulder.

 

“Isn’t that spoilers?” she asked, choking on a sob as if that word hurt even to say. The Master put a comforting hand on her uninjured shoulder.

 

“Just this once.” He sighed and kissed the top of her head then walked over to the sink wetting the towel in his hands. He wrung it out with a quick twist and pivoted on his heel, his mouth set in a determined line. “Mellie, tell me what happened.”

 

The Doctor sagged against the doorframe. He should go. He should go right now, but his feet felt rooted to the spot. What had happened?

 

“You were right.” River shivered as the Master mopped blood off her back with the towel. “It was always going to happen, one way or another.”

 

“The fall of the eleventh? The great battle of the prophecy?”  

 

“It’s not a prophecy;” she corrected in her best professorial tone, “it’s just non-linear temporal archaeology. The Silence dug through all of history looking for this story, but they kept translating it wrong.” She stopped to nod her thanks as the Master handed her a clean dress, gingerly buttoning it up over her bruised skin. “You can’t really blame them,” she continued carefully,  “it appears in the mythologies of a thousand worlds – a little jumbled each time.”  

 

Mythologies he was sure River had read over and over. _See this is what happens when you read ahead, River._

 

“Who knows, Melody? Who asked the question?” The Master’s voice was careful and restrained, holding back the surge of anger beneath his velvet tone.

 

River lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eyes, her features set in that perfect, calm mask that the Doctor had seen far too often.

 

 “I did.”

 

The Master fixed her with an appraising look.  “I’m sorry. I’m really very sorry.” He helped her down off the counter. “Come on Song, back to Stormcage with you. I’ve got to go stop older you from doing the second stupidest thing you'll ever do in your life.”

 

 The Doctor let the door swing silently shut. He turned slowly on his heel to find River standing behind him, her overflowing, leather satchel slung over one shoulder, her house keys still in her hand.

 

“Hi honey I’m home.” She said brightly plunking her keys on the spindly hall table and stretching up on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss. She quickly turned her head as they both heard the sound of the back screen door banging shut. She was through the swinging door and into the kitchen in a flash. When he followed her, he found her staring blankly at a blood-soaked towel in her hand.

 

“I’d almost forgotten.”

 

The Doctor closed the distance between them in two long strides and enveloped her in his arms. It was a long while before she broke their embrace, pulling back to brush the tears from his cheeks. “What is it my love?” her voice brought him back to himself. How could he answer? He had three more days, three green circles on his calendar. He had only three more chances to see her, before she would fade from him. On one of those days he would draw her into a deadly battle and share his heaviest burden with her. River watched him with that calm stoic expression on her face. He knew now what should have always been obvious, that is if he hadn’t once been a terrified idiot, that look meant she was reading his thoughts like a book.

 

 “Hey sweetie, you know someone is going to ask the question, you know that already. I made sure it was me.” She was grinning at him with her best devil-may-care expression, one hand on her hip the other still held the towel. He snatched it from her and shook it as if the towel were to blame for their sad, star-crossed story.   
  
“I never wanted this for you.” He was yelling and even the hurt expression on her face didn’t quell his fury. “I never wanted blood and battles or fighting. I never wanted you hurt. And, I don’t. I can’t.” His fought to force the bitter words out. Just say it, just finally say it.  “I never wanted you to know…not really.”

 

“I know” she said simply taking the towel from him and tossing it without ceremony into the trash. “But I wanted you and I’ve always been strong enough to take the good with the bad.” She took his hand and led him down the hall and then up the narrow wooden staircase that led to her room. She steered him over to the bed and pushed him by the shoulder to sit, positioning her hips between his knees. She pressed her forehead to his and flowed through his mind, turning on lights and sweeping through his musty cobwebs until her tenderness filled him and all his darkness was pushed aside.

 

_Are you near the end?_ She asked wordlessly, tiptoeing carefully through his darkest thoughts to allow him to reveal or hold back as he chose. He loved her so much for this, for being able to stand unflinching amidst his sorrow and anger. He just loved her so much and he was terrified of how much losing her would hurt.

 

_I’m here now._

 

He reached for her, hungry fingers finding buttons, yanking and pulling at clothes until all the barriers between them were stripped away. Thanking her wordlessly for this gift – he wrapped himself in the solace of her body. His mind quieted within hers until all they knew was the infinite stretch of a union outside of time, endless within their numbered days.

 

 

“This is just depressing. And kinda stalker. It has to go.”

 

River was making a systematic trip through the TARDIS, a large garbage bag in one hand. She swept the calendar off his desk and into her bag with one dismissive motion.

 

“And what is this?” She asked indicating a stack of musty books. “You’re not actually reading late 20th century fiction are you – that stuff is just miserable.” She picked up a dusty hardback and shook it at him playfully. “The Road!” she huffed, “Honestly.” Into the bag went his stories of misery and his frankly disturbing collection of soul crushing independent films.

 

“Hey those have indie cred!” He shouted halfheartedly from his vantage point on the sofa. He’d been watching River clean out his personal library for half and hour. He was busy committing her movements to memory. He loved the way she stretched up on her toes to reach things on high shelves, extending and lengthening all the way through to her fingertips like a ballet dancer. He loved the way she casually dusted her hands on her jeans, slapping her palms against her hips in full knowledge that her ass looked amazing.

 

He smiled thinking about a distant memory – he’d just needed a temporal coupling, but she’d answered a summons meant for Jack, turning up wearing those jeans, bending over to pick up a picnic basket. “Why do you have a picnic basket,” he’d asked, terrified by his body’s reaction to the tight swell of her curves in those jeans.

 

River was talking, bringing him back into the present. “Well you can’t bring Clara on board until this place feels less like a mausoleum.” She sniffed at a dog-eared paperback and threw it in the bag. “You can’t have her thinking you’re some brooding eternal out of a bad Anne Rice story.”

 

“Oi, I do not brood.” He smiled despite himself as River lifted his long purple coat from the back of a nearby chair and frowned at it.

 

“Either you’re playing Heathcliff in a shockingly faithful adaptation or you’ve finally lost all sense of fashion.” She cocked her head to one side as she considered his newest acquisition. She swung the coat onto her own shoulders and regarded her reflection in his wall mirror.

 

“How do I look?” She asked.

 

“Dreadful.”

 

“Well then, I rest my case.” She tossed the coat into the garbage bag, but the Doctor dug it out and shrugged it on. .

 

“Only dreadful on you, it looks fantastic on me.” He tapped her on the nose as he twirled past her to examine the striking figure he cut in the mirror. “Besides, nothing says crippling depression like deep purple.”

 

“Hmmm,” River acknowledged, rummaging through a pile of sonic neural relays, vinyl records and phonographic cylinders. “Well maybe Clara will be intrigued by your personae of suffering widower and mistake it for depth of character.”

 

The Doctor brightened at the mention of Clara’s name. River had promised him that he would find Clara and soon. He also knew, thanks to River’s new small-spoilers-are-allowed policy, that River and the Master would meet Clare, had met her, had liked her. Somehow, knowing how he would spend those last few green circles made him happy.

 

But, for now, his plan was perfect; he’d gotten River to agree to travel with him in the TARDIS indefinitely. Eventually, yes, he’d take her back. She’d had a class the evening they’d left New Oxford and she needed time to grade reports. So he’d drop her at home maybe five minutes or so after they’d left. But in the meantime, he had his girl, he had his time-machine, and they had some running to do. He was giddy at the prospect. Time was not the boss of them.

 

River’s little handheld computer blipped. Her lips curved into a smile as she read  a message. Her thumbs flew over the touchpad, tapping out a reply.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Oh, you know, texting a boy.” His mouth dropped open in a soundless protest as she continued. “Poor sweetie, you’ve gotten yourself stranded on Atraxi 9 and you really need some temporal couplings.” She was paused to tap some more. “Whenever you are, you’re really clueless, because I think you think I’m Jack.” She grinned at the screen and started to punch coordinates into her vortex manipulator. She glanced up and took in the expression of fury growing on his face.

 

“Take the picnic basket from the third pantry.” He snapped at her as he turned on one heel to storm out of the room. He slammed the door behind him. A few minutes later he caught the tale-tale whiff of ozone drifting down the hallway. He pressed his pounding head tight within his palms.

 

 

\--- ---

 

It wasn’t that he was trying to change her timelines. He’d been down that road before and it only led to ruin. It would be more fitting to say that he wasn’t going to help fate rob him of his wife. So he tried to take no action that might lead River Song to Trenzilore. He would not become involved in the unraveling mystery of the first question. Clara fell into his life and there were days, there were weeks when he didn’t think about River Song. And there were a few glorious days when they all ran together.

 

He was happy, he was not alone and that, after all, is what she wanted for him. He focused on Clara. Who was she? How was she possible? He loved her, this incredible pint-sized dynamo of a girl and emotion always had made him blind. So in the end, far too late, he realized that every step of solving Clara’s mystery had taken him one step closer to the battle, his final battle.

 

And then it was upon him, and Clara was brilliant and he was brilliant but even the combined force of their genius could not hold back the tide of time. They were separated, and a mighty army surrounded him, demanding the secret that they believed would destroy their enemies – the Silence. And then, she was there and so were Jack and Vashtra and Jenny and Strax, his friends cutting a swath through the wall of soldiers, fighting furiously to reach him. He fought with renewed strength, disarming opponents and twisting away until he’d scrambled up the one little hill on the Plain of Size. He watched in amazement as River worked her way towards him, he and Clara had made it virtually impossible for anyone to fire an advanced weapon and the soldiers had resorted to using their ceremonial swords, making the battle look ridiculously old-fashioned for the 56th century. River, bleeding profusely from a gash to her thigh, was locked in combat with two men clad in black armor.

Sadly for them, River’s sword was not ceremonial. She’d been trained by the best swordsman the Roman army ever produced. In moments, both lay at her feet and she was bounding towards him, her jubilant face shining with the knowledge that he was okay. He was okay. Then her face fell and the Doctor followed her eyes down to his own chest where two arrows lay lodged – one for each heart. He was vaguely aware of Vastra moving to his far right, an archer caught in her venomous kiss and then he was stumbling into River’s arms.

 

“Doctor. I’m here, What do you need.”

 

He watched her face swim in front of him, her young eyes wide with terror. He brought his hands to her face and marveled as golden light shimmered from his fingertips to illuminate her skin. Of course, of course. These were _her_ lives searing through his body.

She was ready, she could bear the burden. She’d always been strong.

 

Around them the army crushed forward, desperately screaming, demanding to be told. Who? Who?

 

“River it has to be now.” He yelled to be heard over the din of the screaming and the rush as blinding golden light enveloped them.

 

River closed her eyes slowly and leaned into him to whisper into his ear.

 

The Doctor might have heard or might have imagined Jack’s frantic calls of “run, run.”

 

The soldiers, unheeding, rushed forward as the Doctor pressed his lips to River’s ear, golden heat rolling out, released from some unspeakable source of power. She listened and nodded as the fire surged from within him, terrible and beautiful, burning across the plain.

 

Jack Harkness, turned towards the explosion, his face burning in the relentless heat. For thousands of years he would carry the memory of two figures clinging together at the white epicenter, luminous even within the blinding brightness. You are not alone, he thought as he collapsed among the burning bodies.

 

\-----

 

 

The Doctor groaned. His eyelids felt like they’d been welded shut and he was vaguely aware of the acrid smells of ash and the rough scratch of rock against his face. He tried and failed to lift his head, finding his arms unequal to the task of pushing his body away from the hot earth. He finally settled for rolling onto his back and groaned again as the movement set off a fresh wave of new pain in his protesting limbs.

 

“You changed your face.” A clipped voice remarked. “I don’t like it.”

 

The Doctor managed to force his eyelids open a fraction, and found an exceedingly handsome face filling the hazy crescent of his vision.

 

“w-who, where?” he struggled “r-r-ver”

 

“River? Oh, She’s fine, I took her to Haven to patch her up, then back to Stormcage.”

 

The Doctor worked to focus his eyes on the man squatting casually on the ground in front of him. Bright blue eyes shone in an alabaster face, set off by a shock of black hair.

 

“Master?” he asked with growing certainty. It wasn’t really a question. Who else could pull off those cheekbones? Seriously, you could cut yourself.

 

“You look…um…well, I mean good, I mean your face…” the Doctor stammered, still disoriented. He strained against the ground to push himself up to sit legs-akimbo in the dirt.

 

“Yes, it is really rather a good one isn’t it.” The Master preened. “Courtesy of our Mellie. A friend and I showed up at that Library tried to stop her strapping herself into that stupid computer. She shot me.” He made an indignant gesture with his hands as if to say _Can you believe the nerve!_

“She’s she’s gone.” Suddenly the Doctor’s fuzzy mind offered him this one clear fact. He repeated it to his friend. Repeating the one thing he knew for sure. “I’m all out of days with her. I won’t ever see her again.”

 

 

“Now Doctor, whatever gave you that silly idea.” He raised his eyes to see a tall, red-haired woman walking towards him, arm and arm with Clara.

 

“Hello Sweetie.” She smirked, and he saw Rory’s eyes twinkling at him from her pale face. She leaned over him, brushing his own long hair away from his face with slender fingers. “You look terrible.”

 

 

-         - -

 

The Doctor leaned into his reflection, studiously brushing his long, ginger hair first to one side then the other. He tried a sexy smile, then a wink.

 

“Oh my god, please someone shoot him.” Clara moaned from her perch on River’s parlor sofa. The Master, who Clara would only address as Harold, sat on the floor, back pressed against her legs as she combed her fingers through his inky tresses.

 

“Been there, done that, got the jail time.” River quipped, coming into the room and joining the Doctor in front of the large gilded mirror that hung over the fireplace. His green eyes met hers in the mirror for a second before he had to look away. She looked so much like them. A super concentrated Pond, the original Melody. He supposed it was very lucky that the Silence kept that DNA for so long, stored in the databanks of their archives at Trensilore. Lucky during the battle for Clara to discover it, download it onto memory discs, and secret them into her pockets. But, it would take him a while to look at her and not think of Amy and Rory. Maybe that was as it should be.

 

He looked over to where Clara and the Master sat canoodling and rolled his eyes. She’d told him the story obviously. She’d tried to explain how it felt to stumble onto that battlefield, picking her way through smoldering bodies to where River keened over his own unconscious form. She’d held River, taken his strong, brave wife into her arms and assessed the damage, the blood-loss, the angry gashes that covered her body. She’d done all this and then contacted the only other Timelord in the universe. The man he’d taught her to call only in an hour of the most serious need. “Who else?”she’d asked him with a shrug of her shoulders. “Who else would know what to do?”

 

She’d seen love in his eyes, love for River, love for the Doctor and she decided to trust him, handing him the memory discs. And the Master, for his part, recognized Clara’s genius and enlisted her help. He’d taken her into that Library with no plan other than stopping River. River, naturally, had other ideas.

 

As his tenth self had been racing to plug River into that Library, Clara had been mere rooms away watching the Master regenerate, River’s DNA clutched in his hand. It had been simple after that. As the Master himself had explained, “ _The code  was bursting with regeneration energy and Clara’s a genius and you had just created a perfect, electrified digital signature of her consciousness. So well done all around really._ ”

 

He shook himself from these thoughts, refusing to think of all the things that could have gone wrong, but didn’t. Of all the ways he’d fought against this path. They were here. They were alive - a strange, wonderful foursome. River took his hand and rested her head against his own. She smiled at their matching flame-colored tresses shining in the mirror.

 

“We are gonna make the cutest babies ever.”


End file.
